


Cmon, Lets get you boys Holmes

by VaticanCameos (00vatican_cameos)



Series: Holmes is where the heart is [1]
Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: Abduction, Adoption, Angst, BAMF Greg Lestrade, BAMF John Watson, Domestic Fluff, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Fluff, Holmes Brothers, Implied/Referenced Child Abuse, Implied/Referenced Rape/Non-con, Implied/Referenced Self-Harm, Implied/Referenced Sexual Assault, Kid Mycroft, Kid Sherlock Holmes, M/M, New Dads, Panic Attacks, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Protective Mycroft, Repressed Memories, Watstrade in full force, anderson is a bit less stupid, donovan is actually decent, only a bit though, saving the boys, wall punching
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-05-18
Updated: 2020-11-14
Packaged: 2021-03-02 19:01:59
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 20
Words: 19,911
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24251764
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/00vatican_cameos/pseuds/VaticanCameos
Summary: Detective inspector Greg lestrade is on a missing child case- one he becomes completely involved in, and not only must he save the missing child, Sherlock Holmes, but he must save his siblings too, from an evil in the form of their parents, and each fight their demons together. Him and his soon to be husband John Watson must save them before something drastic happens that would break them all.lots of angst, fluff and clever, clever children to come-WORK IN PROGRESS- UPDATES WHEN I CAN-My author twitter is vaticancameos22, please go follow if you enjoy my work!!kudos appreciated :)
Relationships: Greg Lestrade/John Watson
Series: Holmes is where the heart is [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1750585
Comments: 115
Kudos: 60





	1. this feels a bit not good?

**Author's Note:**

> hello!!! This is my first ever fic, but this is a story really important to me, and so this is a project which I hope people will love :) 
> 
> I have 4 pre written chapters, and I’m constantly writing new ones so I’ll be updating weekly, potentially more considering the circumstances. 
> 
> Open to a beta, feel free to point out mistakes or suggest how I can make the story better/more smooth- like I said this is my first fic. 
> 
> enjoy the show peeps!!!!  
> Love- Myc x

Detective Inspector Greg Lestrade had been on this case for a total of four months, 12 days and 11 hours now. A two year old boy, by the name of William Sherlock Scott Holmes, was missing, a boy described by his uncle Rudy and two older brothers as ‘a brilliant, incandescent child, wise beyond his years, yet completely socially inept, although cherished by those who appreciate his gifts’.

According to his parents however, he was a difficult child with Aspergers, who never does as he is told and is just downright stupid. From the first interview with them, Greg felt something strangely off about Violet and Siger Holmes, especially after meeting their other two children.

Nine year old Mycroft had wispy ginger hair, with light blue eyes that caught the light from all angles, seemed adult-like from the moment Greg laid eyes on him- he looked weary and held none of the childish innocence that many kids radiate. He was obviously incredibly clever, he articulated like a politician and held himself like a royal.

And then there was 11 year old Sherrinford- a boy with dark hair, only slightly wavy, unlike his little brother, who Greg was told had wild, curly, Raven hair- he was obviously very protective and almost paternal over Mycroft and Sherlock, he seemed much more worried about Sherlocks disappearance than his parents did. Strange. 

Greg was startled from his thoughts by a firm, but comforting grip on his shoulder, and a warm, solid voice.

‘What’s wrong sweetheart, are you okay?’

It took Greg a moment to realise that the voice belonged to his soon to be husband, a blonde haired ex-army doctor, formerly of the fifth Northumberland fusiliers, by the name of John Watson.

He felt a warm wetness on his cheeks- shit, was he crying??

‘Greg are you okay? You’re worrying me sweetheart’

Greg took a moment to look at the sandy blonde, stocky doctor, his gorgeous blue eyes were full of worry and his presence radiated calm.   
Greg snapped out of his thoughts and finally plucked up the strength to reply to his infinitely worried fiancé.

‘yeah, yeah I’m okay. Just this case of the missing kid has really hit me hard, I can’t shake the feeling that something really wrong is going on- but I just can’t figure out what. It’s like it’s on the tip of my tongue, just out of my reach.’

‘you think it’s something to do with the other boys?’ John seemed genuinely invested and interested in this case, just as Greg was.

‘Yeah I do. The middle boy, Mycroft, seems more adult than child. He knew exactly what to say, when to say it, like it was rehearsed. And the eldest, Sherrinford, he was in fits worrying about Sherlock- kept muttering something like /he can’t cope without myc and me, he knows no different, oh god he’s gonna be so scared/ the boy was literally pacing john. pacing! An eleven year old! He was more worried than the parents were. That’s another thing! The parents just treated it like a small inconvenience, they didn’t even attempt to feign any sort of worry for their missing, potentially dead son’’

‘Shit Greg. Look- I’ll take the day off tomorrow and we can go over the evidence and sort through everything yeah? Because for now you need sleep, you look like death and you can’t help them in this state. Come on, to bed with you.’

The army doctor knew his presence alone comforted Greg, so he got close in bed and let Greg lay his head on his chest so he could hear his heartbeat, and Greg was thankful for him.


	2. midnight trips to the yard

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> soooo this is a slight filler chapter? It’s short, but the next few chapters are longer so this is just to link up the story really, but a bit of Greg and John being cute never really hurt anyone :) hope you enjoy!!!!
> 
> love, myc x

**3:24 am** ** Baker st.**

The loud ringing of a phone disturbed the peaceful silence at 221b Baker Street in the early hours of the morning- waking DI lestrade from a tense, fitful sleep. He didn’t much mind if he was honest, it was better than tossing and turning in bed for hours. John stirred, but Greg told him to settle, then plodded to the living room to find the offending item and shut it up.

The caller ID read sergeant gregson, and upon realising this Greg hastily answered the call, with a feeling of worry in his chest.   
  


‘What is it??? is there news??’ Greg bombarded down the line, despite his voice still being thick with sleep. 

‘woah there tiger, someone’s getting a bit sentimental aren’t they?’

Greg was sure that the sergeant could feel his piercing glare through the phone, that was confirmed when the officer quickly continued.

’yeah, um. Sorry sir. Right- we’ve finally got permission to review the CCTV footage from the day Sherlock Holmes went missing? You know, from the war museum? He’s seen to be-‘

But he was cut off by the eager detective inspector, who continued with ‘enough, I’ll be at the yard in 10 to review the footage’ 

‘but sir’-

‘no buts. I’m on my way, and I’m going to find that poor little boy and bring him home.’

Lestrade ended the call and ran to the bedroom, surprised to find a fully dressed John and a full set of clothes for Greg laid out on the bed.

‘Now, before you argue, I’m coming too. I’ve grown to care about these boys just as much as you have, not to mention I do have the necessary security clearance to come to the yard so there is no reason for you to argue. Now- I’m going to make us tea, seeing as we are getting a super early morning, and you are going to get your shapely arse dressed into that suit and we are going to go find that boy.’

Greg knew better than to argue, and to be fair to John it warmed Greg’s Heart knowing that his fiancé cared so much.

10 minutes later, Greg and John found themselves in the back of a famously black London cab on their way to new Scotland Yard, going far too slow for Greg’s liking.

’I don’t get it. Gregson said the museum, but the parents insisted they were at the London eye? I don’t know, they really are acting suspiciously and- BLOODY TRAFFIC LIGHTS!!!!!’ Greg’s shout made the doctors ears ring.

’sweetheart you need to calm down. Look we’re here now- see? Come on, let’s go.’ John really did worry about Greg when he got like this, and he would need to keep an eye on him to keep him from getting too het-up.  
  


With that, John placed a quick, chaste kiss on Greg’s cheek, Greg then put on his best DI face and they both got out of the cab.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> so what did you think? Next chapter will also be up today, maybe even chapter 4 if I have the time between school work- so yeah, kudos and comments are always appreciated and I hope you all liked it!!!!


	3. just saw red

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> hello! second update in a day- what??? I really hope that you’re all enjoying this story, the positive feedback has really got me even more motivated!!! I wasn’t really expecting people to read this, so thankyou!!! anyway- this is a longer chapter, and quite an important one. Anyway, I hope you enjoy this chapter, I might add chapter four today, but if not it will be tomorrow. X
> 
> love, myc x

  
Greg sat at his desk at new Scotland Yard, head in hands and breaths far too shallow to be healthy. John had just gone to get teas for the both of them. He knew that he cared about this case more than any he’d dealt with before, but watching that CCTV footage changed something in him. He made a silent promise to do everything and more to get that little boy back, and get him the love that he deserves.

—

_A family. Walking up the stairs to the war museum. Two older boys, one looking about 9 and the other 11, the eldest carrying a seemingly content toddler. Suddenly, the mother spins round, seething over something unknown. She snatches the youngest from his brother, and all-but throws him to the floor._

_The two year old, a small child with a curly mop of raven coloured locks, and piercing grey eyes, dressed in bedraggled clothes that were frankly too big for him which hung off of his tiny frame, making him seem even smaller than he already looked, began to cry. That earned a smack on the wrist from his mother._

_She went on to tell off her oldest two sons, grabbing their shoulders and making them look her right in the eyes, whilst the toddler seemingly went unnoticed. A man dressed in a sharp, black suit, came up behind them and shoved a cloth over the tiny, innocent boys mouth and hurried away, by the looks of it towards a nearby car park._

_The oldest sibling soon realised that the small boy was gone, and he began to shout, clawing at his hair and frantically running about trying to find his missing little brother. The middle child engaged in much the same, whilst the parents seemed unbothered, and they proceeded to grab their two remaining sons and drag them to the car._

—

‘GET ME THE FOOTAGE FROM THE MUSEUM CAR PARK FROM THE 12th OF MARCH AS QUICKLY AS POSSIBLE. I DONT CARE WETHER WE HAVE PERMISSION OR NOT- GET IT NOW!!!’ 

Greg’s voice rang out through the offices of New Scotland Yard. All of a sudden the yard was alive with movement, and Lestrade retreated to his office, slammed the door much harder than is recommended and punched the wall with full force. His knuckles split open on impact, but Greg didn’t notice.

He continued to fight with the wall with all of the strength he had until he sank to the ground, emotionally and physically exhausted, barely registering his broken and bleeding knuckles.

John walked in to this scene, carrying teas, but they lay forgotten on the desk as soon as the doctors eyes met the sight of his detective. John sank to Greg’s side, and took him into his arms in a tight, comforting embrace. 

‘Hey sweetheart, come here’ John used soft gentle tones, trying his best to calm down the panicking detective inspector.

It was then that John saw blood dripping down the wall of the office, and a considerable dent in the partition wall.

‘Oh Greg, honey, what have you done’ John said in his warm, calming voice. It hurt him to see his lover hurting like this. In response, Greg just let out a heartwrenching sob, a sob that communicated the level of hurt Greg felt at this moment in time.

The inspector didn’t notice when the doctor began to examine his hand, he was practically unconscious from exhaustion.

‘I’m gonna have to stitch this, you’ve broken two of your knuckles and your pinkie finger. I’m going to get the med kit and then I’ll be right back okay? Stay there.’

When John returned, Greg had thrown up the little he had eaten into the waste paper basket, and was muttering something about not being good enough. Whilst John fixed up his hand, he did his best to comfort his fiancé.

‘You will always be good enough, those boys have the best detective inspector on the case, and I know that you are going to go above and beyond to bring their little brother home safe, you already are. You’re doing amazing, we will find him sweetheart, we will and we’ll make sure he is loved once we do.’

Greg was now settled in the warm embrace of his army doctor, he was now completely lucid with a freshly stitched and bandaged right hand, drinking his luke-warm cup of tea appreciatively.   
  
‘I just lost it. That footage made me see red. Who the hell can do that to a two year old!!! And the fact that the parents 1- lied about the location that Sherlock went missing in, and 2- didnt seem to care AT ALL when the boy couldn’t be found??? I bloody hope, for the walls of my office’s sake, that the car park footage is brought in soon or I swear I’m going to-‘ 

He was cut off by sergeant Donovan, who bustled in, saying that they’d found the footage and they knew where the boy was. Lestrade was out of the door before she had a chance to finish.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> well? Did you like it? Kudos is always appreciated, thanks for reading!!  
> myc x


	4. “Bunker 04, SOS”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> this is a really short transition chapter- but trust me the next chapter makes up for it!!!! Hope you enjoy, please don’t hesitate to comment criticism, and other comments and kudos are always appreciated!!! 
> 
> Hope you enjoy
> 
> Love- myc x

‘Right so where are we going?’   
  


Lestrade had hurried to his unmarked Audi, with Donovan getting in the passenger seat, readying 4 units to follow to the scene. He hadn’t bothered listening to her explanation, he just wanted to get to the boy.

John couldnt come, he was due to start his shift at the surgery. He offered taking the day off, but Greg said no and promised to update him the results of the day.   
  


Once they were on the road, Donovan began to recall what she knew and where they were headed.

‘The CCTV footage showed the boy stood in between two vans, whilst the man who kidnapped him stood on the phone, presumably waiting on instruction for what to do with the child. As we know, this boy is incredibly clever, with incredible reading and writing skills, and massive intellect. We think that he heard something the man said to whoever he was on the phone, and used his knowledge to figure out where he was going. We think this because on the side of the van that he wasn’t getting into, when the man wasn’t looking, he etched into the dirt ‘Bunker 04- SOS’. We searched for a bunker 04- and lo and behold there is one a few miles outside of London. He really is a clever little thing that boy, I really hope he is okay. I informed violet and siger Holmes, theyre on their way.’   
  


That last statement made Greg’s stomach drop. He really didn’t like the parents, he knew there was something going on in regards to them, but he just didn’t know what. Yet.

Lestrade picked up his radio when the car stopped.   
‘cavalry stand by. Forensics wait until I come out with the boy before you enter.’   
  


With that, Lestrade got out of the car and braced himself for the task ahead.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> sooooo next chapter is full of action- will be up shortly. I’ve been slaving away writing this, I’m in the middle of writing chapter 6 and 7! So yeah- hope you enjoyed, 
> 
> Love- myc x


	5. His knight in shining armour

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> this is a long chapter- we finally meet little Sherlock!!! For those of you asking, we properly meet mycroft and sherrinford next chapter, which is also a long chapter. But the next chapter is my last pre written one, so I’ll be writing chapter 7 and possibly 8 tonight, so that I can keep this updated!!! I hope you enjoy this, kudos and comments are always appreciated 
> 
> Love- myc x

The place was an old ww2 bunker from what Greg could see on the outside. Overgrown and camouflaged. He was to enter with Donovan and Gregson, but only he would go in and get the boy- so as not to scare him too much. He was presumably jumpy and scared of people, even more so than usual (apparently his own shadow made him jump before he was taken). Four months in a bunker would do that to a grown adult, let alone a two year old child.

Before he went in, he pulled his phone out and quickly typed a text to his fiancé- and he was graced with an immediate reply from the army doctor.   
  


**> going in now, I’ll text you when I’m out, I love you x -GL**

**< okay sweetheart, go to his rescue and be his knight in shining armour! I love you too x -JW**

Greg prepared himself and his team- and then they went in the bunker.

Once through the heavy metal door, the inside of the bunker was lit with bright, harsh, artificial lights. Lestrade had to fight off a migraine as he was walking down the cast iron stairs, his senses were being assaulted by the musty smell and the bright lights all at once.

He got to the bottom of the stairs, and was met by a large round room, filled with maps pinned to the wall, and files and papers scattered around. It had several metal doors leading off of it, the first two that Greg checked were just old studies, obviously disused for a long time, judging by the thick layer of dust that covered the rooms. When he met the third door, he peered in through the window and had to take a minute to steel himself before entering. He came to the conclusion that this was going to be very emotionally taxing.

The sight that met him was awful. The room held only a metal bed, a bucket in one corner, and a drain in another. A tiny figure set up right in the so-called ‘bed’ (more like a table, Greg thought), ankles bound by leather straps that prevented their captives from laying down in any moderately comfortable position.   
  


Gregs heart caught In his throat the first time he attempted to speak- letting out just a strangled sound that started the little boy. Greg crouched down to the boys level, but stayed a decent distance from him.   
  


‘hey sunshine. I’m Detective Inspector Lestrade. But you can call me Greg if you want to’

The child just looked at him with wide eyes. The stormy grey orbs held fear and trepidation, and Greg felt a near overwhelming urge to hug the child tight and protect him from the horrors of the world. But knowing that he had yet to gain the child’s trust, he held back and stayed where he was. 

‘your name is Sherlock isn’t it?’ a small nod came from the boy. ‘Your brothers are very worried about you, they miss you very much’

At the mention of his brothers, silent tears began to fall from the small boys eyes.   
‘sunshine, hey, don’t cry! I’m here to get you out okay? Do you mind if I come closer so I can undo those nasty straps?’ A hesitant and very small nod came from the boy. Greg stepped closer and Sherlock began to tremble.

‘it’s okay sunshine, I’m not going to hurt you I promise. I will never, ever hurt you.’

Greg began to fumble around with the straps holding the infants legs in place. This was a tough task, because the room was in a dusky darkness, a stark contrast to the rest of the artificially lit bunker. The fresh bandages on his right hand also helped in rendering this task difficult. Sherlock pointed a tiny, trembling finger to Greg’s bandaged hand, and looked at him with a hesitant curiosity. Whilst working on the second strap, Greg answered his silent question.  
  


’This? Oh. I got into a- um, into a bit of a fight with a wall. I’ll be okay though, I live with a very special doctor. He did a lot to find you, me and him have been very worried about you little one.’

The moment the boys legs were free, he sprang into the nearest corner and curled himself up as small as he could manage.

’sunshine, could you talk to me? I want to get you out of here, I really do.’

The boy shook his head so softly that if Greg wasn’t watching for it, he wouldn’t of noticed the movement. 

‘right then. That’s okay, but I’m going to ask a few questions and you can nod or shake your head in response, okay?’ A nod from the child. Good.

’I’ll start off easy then, are you hurt?’ 

Sherlock seemed to think about this for a second, like whether to answer or not. When the boy stayed still, Greg added- ‘it’s okay sunshine, you can tell me. I’m not going to be angry.’

with that, the boy gave a nod.   
  


‘thankyou for telling me, could you point to where you are hurt so I can take a look?’

Sherlock firmly shook his head. This puzzled Greg, why would he want to stay hurting? The boy recognised Greg’s confusion, and turned to the wall. Just like he did on the van, he began to spell out a sentence. On the tiles of the cell, in relatively neat cursive, the finger drawn letters read

 _‘don’t deserve care. Am a freak._ ’

Greg’s heart sank. He looked at the innocent little boy that sat infront of him, and suddenly felt very angry at whoever had destroyed this poor kids self worth. Angry at the sick bastard that had done this to this gorgeous little boy.

’dont you ever say that sunshine, not ever. You are an amazing little boy, and I bet you are already cleverer than all of the adults around here. You are most definitely not a freak, whoever told you that doesn’t deserve a special little boy like you.’

Before Greg could finish, to his utter surprise, the small child launched himself toward him, and wrapped his tiny arms around his neck and began to silently sob. Too silently for Greg’s liking, but he was glad the boy trusted him. Greg just meant against the wall and held the boy, absently running his fingers through sherlocks soft, raven curls. Silent sobs wracked his tiny frame, and Greg just sat there with the little one in his arms until the sobs gradually subsided, having finally succumbed to slumber at last.   
  


After a while of just cuddling the little boy, Greg slowly got up. He left the grimy cell, quietly signalling for Donovan to let Anderson and the rest of forensics in. He slowly went up the iron steps, shielding the sleeping boys eyes from the harsh light of the bunker. Once out in the cool evening air, Greg made a beeline for the waiting ambulance, but he was stopped before he got there. A woman, late 40s with greying hair, and a man of similar age, who lestrade immediately recognised as violet and siger Holmes, bustled right into Greg. They snatched the sleeping form of Sherlock right out of his arms, waking the small boy, and as soon as they lost contact Sherlock began to cry, earning himself a look of mild disgust from his mother. Greg, upon witnessing this, shot her a hard glare. Only then did she seem to remember herself- and she began to (obviously) half heartedly thank Greg for saving Sherlock.   
  


‘yes, well he does need immediate medical attention so if you’ll let me take care of all that and the relevant procedures then I’ll get him back to you as soon as he’s okay.’   
  


He recieved just a sharp shake of the head from violet Holmes, and they hurried to their car and drove away before Greg had the time to protest.

With a look of utter bewilderment, and a horrible, twisting feeling in his gut, he went back into the bunker to find Anderson.   
  


When he saw the name ‘William’ written on one of the maps in the main room- things suddenly clicked in his head. He needed to go save Sherlock and his siblings from an evil that no child should ever have to face. Their own parents.

’ANDERSON!! LOOK FOR THE PRINTS OF VIOLET AND SIGER HOLMES, MAKE THAT PRIORITY!!!’

Donovan was looking at him like he was a madman. He should probably explain, come to think of it. 

‘Right, listen. The only people who know of Sherlocks legal first name, William, are his parents and his siblings. See that map over there? There’s a cross by the museum, with the name William written next to it. That can only mean that the parents were involved, and they really despise him, poor kid, and that also explains why they hurried away with the boy. So, Donovan, we need to go, just us though. We need to get to musgrave hall as quick as possible.’

’um Greg?’ Came Anderson’s voice. ‘Both violet and sigers prints are on the leather straps that are on the bed.’

’Shit. We need to hurry, there’s no telling what they could be doing. Donovan, the car.’

They got in and drove away, as fast as possible.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Soooo did you like it? Let me know in a comment, Any criticisms are welcome!!! Next chapter is imminent, hope you are enjoying the story so far!!!!
> 
> Love- myc x


	6. your special doctor

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> hello!!! First update this week- sorry it’s been a few days I was really ill and I really had no energy to post. But- I did get chapters written!!! Being in bed has its perks I suppose!!! Thankyou to everyone who has been reading, and especially to those who have taken the time to comment or leave kudos, it means a lot to me! <3 anyways- just so people are aware, this fic is my first. As the chapters go on, I’m making them more detailed and at the same time going back and editing and adding to previous chapters. Hope you all enjoy this chapter!!
> 
> Love- myc x

Greg decided that he would drive, since in his experience Sally Donovan drove much too slow for his liking. His mind was racing over what he was going to find when they got to Musgrave Hall, and every scenario he came up with made his stomach churn and his heart hurt.

It was clear that Violet and Siger Holmes didn’t care for their youngest son, the other two he didn’t have enough experience to have an opinion but it was blatantly obvious when it came to Sherlock that he was little more than an inconvenience. Greg decided that the first time he met them. They described him as an absolute hinderance, yet by others he was a sweet child with an inquisitive and very kind demeanour. 

When they arrived at Musgrave hall, every single one of Greg’s alarm bells were ringing. There were no cars parked in the usually packed-full drive, and only one light was on. The light, Greg could see was coming from little sherlocks room. Also, the telephone lines looked to have been sawn down, so anyone inside the house couldn’t call for help if needs be. Not good. At all.

‘Sally, stay here. All of these boys are wary of new people, but they’ve all spoken to me before and I don’t want to spook them by bringing in strangers. Don’t call for backup unless I specifically say, it will just make them reluctant to come out. Okay? Oh, and call John and tell him to get here as soon as he can.’ 

With a nod from Donovan, Greg opened the front door to the manor. It was obvious that Violet and Siger were out, and probably would be for some time. He heard gentle cries coming from upstairs in the large house. It was lucky that he had been here before, if he hadn’t he would definitely got lost in the seemingly endless corridors and hallways. As he ascended the split staircase, the cries died down, the lads evidently worried about an intruder. He got to sherlocks bedroom and knocked softly. 

‘Hey boys- it’s DI Lestrade. Do you remember me? I came a few weeks ago, and I saved Sherlock earlier today. May I come in?’

‘Are you alone?’ Came Sherrinfords obviously defensive and protective voice.

‘Yes, Sergeant Donovan is outside in the car, but I’m the only one in the house’

There was silence for a moment, but then the door burst open and a tearful Sherlock threw himself into Greg’s arms.

‘Hey there sunshine, don’t cry, I’m here now- are you all okay? Are you hurt?’ 

For the first time Greg noticed the awkward way Sherrinfords arm rested next to him, and the way Mycrofts ankle lay. He also noticed multiple bruises on all of the boys, Mycroft had quite the black eye, so did Sherrinford, and he could see small amounts of blood seeping through the back of little Sherlocks Pajama shirt. His heart hurt, why hadn’t he seen this sooner? It’s his job for Christ’s sake.

‘Right. I need to get you boys to a hospital, then you can stay with me at my home until we find somewhere for you all to go.’

He began to move to sit on a chair in the corner of the room, when both older boys cried out. 

‘NO!! no. No hospitals, no GP’s, no A&E. they’re all in with our parents. I will not allow you to take us there, to one of those dreadful places.’

Greg began to protest, but he felt a sharp tug on his collar. Little Sherlock pointed to his palm, where he had written a message with the felt tip that he’d been clutching. The message read- ‘ your special army doctor?’ The two older siblings gave him a puzzled look.

‘My fiancé is a very, very good ex army doctor. I mentioned him to Sherlock when I rescued him. I’ll explain what happened there when everyone is better, but ‘my special army doctor’ is actually on his way, so will you let him take a look at you all?’

Three hesitant nods came his way. He was expecting more resistance from them if he was honest. Right on cue, the gentle tread of Johns footsteps could be heard coming up the stairs, and he was soon leaning in the doorway.

‘Hey boys, I’m John. Let me guess- you are sherrinford, you are Mycroft and you are sherlock. Do you mind if I check you all over?’

Sherrinfords once over went pretty smoothly. He had a dislocated shoulder which John reset then made a makeshift sling from a T shirt. He had deep, mottled bruising on his torso, and a few minor gashes. Greg made a mental note to ask about those later. 

Sherlock had much the same, but he had belt marks, clearly from the buckled end, spanning his back and a suspiciously hand shaped bruise on his face. He too had a few gashes.

When it came to Mycroft, things went slightly pear shaped. He point blank refused to take off the hoodie that he was wearing. 

‘Mycroft, please, I need to make sure that you are okay, I promise I’m not going to hurt you’ John used his softest, most comforting voice.

With a sigh, mycroft decided to reply. ‘Look. I do trust you I swear. All I’ve got on my back is bruises, you really don’t need to see. I have a twisted ankle, and a swollen black eye. That’s all- honest. There’s nothing under my hoodie, so I’m not taking it off. Okay? I don’t mean to be insolent or rude, I’d really just rather not.’

For now, John decided there was no harm in letting it slide. He would be investigating this reluctance in a few days, once the boys were a little more recovered and stable. 

The boys gathered up some clothes, and their favourite possessions, for Sherlock this was his beloved Mr. Bee. A bee teddy, with crinkly wings, huge sparkly eyes and the cutest smile, which was clutched to sherlocks chest like his life depended on it. It was the cutest thing that John and Greg had ever seen. 

Greg’s phone rang, and he went out of the room to answer it. John followed. It was the DCI. His boss. Oh shit.

‘Ah, detective inspector lestrade. Look, I’ve got a proposal to make, and I’ll get straight to the point. Sergeant Donovan rang me. She told me that you are at the hall with the Holmes boys? Well. I know you have a connection with all of the boys, and I know that you and Doctor Watson are looking to adopt. I think you know what I’m getting at. You seem to care deeply about the boys and I think you’d be great for them. Both you and John.’

John looked delightedly at him, and he knew that they had to do this. 

‘Sir, we would be honoured, though the boys are in a bit of a state right now. In a few days, once they are all on the way to recovery, we will sit down and ask them. Thankyou sir, have a good evening.’ 

As soon as he put the phone down, John mashed their lips together and Greg practically jumped for joy. This was what they had both wanted for so long, and they were getting it with 3 amazing boys who needed it. 

They began the drive back to Baker Street, and when they arrived Donovan helped carry the 3 sleeping boys up to their respective rooms in the flat. Mrs Hudson, the landlady, not the housekeeper, looked at them all with a confused but ecstatic look on her face, and Greg knew they would face a barrage of questions the next morning. 

They knew that there was lots of issues to be sorted, they knew that the boys would need lots of support and care, and they would do their best to give it. For now though, they went to bed, cherishing how much their lives had changed in the past few days.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> so- let me know what you think in a comment!!! Kudos is always appreciated, so are criticisms and tips!! I appreciate you all- 
> 
> Love- myc x


	7. come-uppance

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> okay so when I write this story- I write it in a notebook then copy it up onto ao3. I don’t have my notebook with me and so I’m just writing this next chapter straight onto here, so there will likely be some errors, please feel free to point them out in the comments, or tell me how I can improve!!! Anyways, this is quite a short, but important, and slightly(?) a filler chapter but it’s important, violet and Siger finally get their due!!! Hope you all enjoy,
> 
> Love- myc xx

**Middle of the night- 221b Baker Street**

Greg’s phone rang in the middle of the night for the second time that week. Couldn’t it wait??? A decent nights sleep was all he wanted at the moment, especially since they’d got back with the boys really late he had only been in bed for 2 hours max when the phone rang. Damn it. Luckily none of his boys woke up, so he just quietly padded into the living room to answer the late night call.

’DI Lestrade speaking, what is it now Gregson??? Can’t it bloody wait until morning?’

He could hear Gregson shuffling papers and talking to someone, probably Donovan, on the other end of the line.

’um, no sir it can’t. We’ve just had a report that Violet and Siger Holmes have just checked into a premier inn near to Brixton, on CCTV it looked like their car ran out of fuel whilst they were trying to get out of London. We want to go nab ‘em now so that they don’t leave before we get there.’

’bloody hell. Okay. I’ll just let John know and I’ll get on the road. I’ll meet you and the teams there yeah? I want to make the arrest, these people hurt my boys and I’m not too happy about it.’

A ‘yes sir’ came in reply and Greg hung up. He quietly got on his shirt and long coat, he didn’t bother with a tie, it was far too late to faff around with one of those bloody contraptions.

He gently shook John, to wake him so that he could let him know he was going out to work, and that he’d be back by morning.

’John, sweetheart, I’ve just had a call and I’m needed to make the arrests of Violet and Siger Holmes. I’ll be back in the morning, well as early as possible, do you mind making the boys breakfast and sorting out their clothes with them and stuff?’ John nodded, still sleepy but lucid enough to understand. ‘Okay darling- I’m gonna go and get the bastards who hurt our boys okay? I love you.’

With that, he planted a kiss on Johns forehead and one on little Sherlocks head too, and he quietly left the flat.

**Brixton, 2:17 am**

Greg and his team were preparing to enter the room in which the Holmes’ were staying. It was chaos, NSY had even prepared a riot van each for them, and there were sergeants everywhere. All this for two people? Classified records had been dug up, stating that they had a history of resisting arrest violently, but since they are both government workers nobody could touch them. Well. Greg was going to make sure that these monsters never saw the light of day again.

’PUT YOUR HANDS IN THE AIR AND DO NOT, I REPEAT DO NOT MOVE’

Violet and Siger tried to scramble out of their beds and out of the back exit, but they were both intercepted by a whole bunch of sergeants that were waiting outside.

’well, well, well. Nobody, especially the police, likes child abusers. Prisoners don’t like child abusers. You two can be done for all four types of child abuse, you know that?’

Greg was using his most silky smooth, dangerous voice and Violet and Siger were restrained so all they could do was look at him. They didn’t even bother to argue. All they seemed to care about was going to prison.

’you can’t arrest us, we work for the government!!! They won’t let you arrest us. Also, we will be having our kids back. They’ll get them back for us. You’ll lose your job for this i tell you!’

Greg just looked at them smugly. ‘Ahhh see, that is where you are wrong. On my drive here, I had a very interesting phone call with MI5. They seem to think that child abuse is wrong, obviously a difference in opinion between you and your employer. They said to me that they were going to allow your arrest, and they were also inclined to, let’s say, expose your other records of injustifiable and lawless behaviour that they previously covered up for you. They want you in prison just as much as I do. Also, those kids? Those three, gorgeous beings? Me and my fiancé are adopting them. We are going to give them the love that you never did, and we will heal the wounds, physical and mental, that you inflicted upon them. You no longer have any legal right to be responsible for a child, not that you’ll get the chance when you’re in prison for the rest of your days. You will never see outside of a cell again, either of you. I’ll see you at the station. Good day to you.’

Greg tipped his hat and left, looking smug, but at the same time having to quell the urge to punch either of them. He knew it would do no good, only satisfy his need to get revenge for those poor children. But he would get revenge. Tomorrow, news of two highly ranked government officials being sentenced to life in prison for child abuse, and many other crimes, would be published in the tabloids. Oh how Greg would enjoy seeing the look on their faces once their disgusting behaviour was revealed to the entire country, and they were put straight into a high security prison. And maybe, just maybe, a couple of prisoners would be tipped off anonymously on why they were there. Everyone knows what happens to child abusers in prison. Not that Greg would usually condone it, but for these sick bastards he would turn a blind eye.

_Now then_ , he thought, _back to Baker Street with all four of my boys._

The whole drive back to central London, Greg had a huge, ear to ear grin plastered on his face, and the feeling that those people would never be free again made it all worth being woken up at an ungodly hour. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Halllo!!! Hope you enjoyed, let me know what you thought :) comments and kudos are always appreciated xox  
>  (Im trying to make my chapters longer- please don’t kill me for the shortness lmao!)  
> Love- myc xx


	8. never really cared

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> HELLO! I hope you all are well, seeing as the world is in tatters right now! So, this chapter mentions kinda graphic? child abuse, so if that sort of thing bothers you then I’d advise that you don’t read this chapter!! 
> 
> After this chapter is posted, I’m going to be going back and editing previous chapters to be much more detailed and flow more, so this could be the last update until Tuesday. I’m sorry that this is late, this was meant to be posted yesterday but the archive shut down when Id almost finished the chapter and me and my prominent anger issues got pissed off with it so I gave myself a day to breathe before attempting it again.
> 
> I was thinking about writing a chapter from the boys POV? Let me know what you think about that in the comments. 
> 
> Love- myc x

** A few days ** **later**

Everyone at 221b slept in until midday, it had been a lovely but stressful few days. Sherlock still hasn’t uttered so much as a syllable, or even audibly laughed, Sherrinford was acting oddly and getting Mycroft to eat was a challenge. Other than this though, they were all getting along really well, under the circumstances. Greg and John still hadn’t found the right time to ask the boys about the adoption, but it would come.   
  


John rose from the comfort of his bed to change a very smiley Sherlock, and whilst looking at a still sleeping Greg he decided to make pancakes for his boys. He sat Sherlock in his highchair with a bottle and went up the slightly creaky stairs to wake the two older boys up.   
  


He opened the door on two wide-eyed boys, who seemed to have been talking in hushed tones until they had heard John coming up the stairs. This did concern John, but he waited to see if they were going to talk to him about whatever it was. Sure enough, they did.

’um John, could we talk to you?’

At this, John felt a twinge of pride in the two boys. They were choosing to talk to him! He’d expected that to take longer if he was honest.

’of course you can boys, about anything, at any time, okay?’ So will Greg. We love and care about you boys a lot.’

Both boys looked appreciatively at John, who sat on the bed with silent invitation for the boys to start talking. With hesitation, Sherrinford began.

’so, the night you came and rescued us, mother and father came back with Sherlock, and they were absolutely furious. More furious than I have ever seen them. They started screaming at him, saying that they never wanted him. And that he was meant to disappear forever, and it was all his fault that they had to continue looking after him when he didn’t deserve it etc. He got the usual, 6 lashes from Father with his belt and a slap from mother. They always make me and myc watch, they know how much we love Sherlock and they hate that. I couldn’t stand the things they were saying, I never usually react but this time it just got me. I grabbed Sherlock and locked him in the bathroom. I couldn’t see him be hurt anymore. Mother and father really were not happy. To put it short, me and Myc’ got a proper beating, more than we’ve ever taken before. Basically our parents never loved us. They never wanted us. They never really cared about us, we knew that when Sherlock was born. It all got worse then, because we cared so much about the little ball of innocence that is our little brother, we didn’t want him to be treated like we were. But it turned out they hated him more than us, it just wasn’t fair. It isn’t fair!!! They hurt us John, I hate them. They hurt Myc and they hurt ‘Lock and I hate them!’

Sherrinford had wanted to say more, but that was as far as he got before getting a lump in his throat and choking up. John saw this and pulled the two boys into a tight bear hug. He hated that these boys had been through the unthinkable, and none of them were even teenagers yet! What was John doing at their age? Playing rugby with his friends, begging his mum for a pound to go to the corner shop, complaining about homework? These boys probably never had the chance to do those things, and that broke Johns heart. It just wasn’t fair! He remembered the pancakes and decided that they would cheer the boys up for a while, since he’d cut funny faces into them to amuse them all.   
  
  


‘hey boys, I’ve made pancakes, do you want to go and wake Greg up? We can eat them and then we can have a nice day here at home yeah?’

Before John could continue, he was being barrelled down the stairs and into him and Greg’s room. He grabbed Sherlock on the way past, and then once in the bedroom plonked him straight on top of of a still sleeping Gregory. Sherlock was happily bouncing on Greg’s chest, and John saw ‘Ford and Myc share a look, and then they chorused at the top of their lungs-

‘GREGGGGG!!! WAKE UPPPPPP! JOHNS MADE PANCAKESSSSS!!’

Greg scrambled up at the sudden commotion, and then when he was slightly more lucid he shot John, who was doubled over with laughter, a glare for waking him up in such a fashion. Obviously he didn’t really mind, he loved the boys, and he definitely loved pancakes so it was a win win situation really.   
  


They all sat around the table, and practically inhaled the pancakes, so much so that they all sat in fits of giggles for a good 10 minutes after finishing, marvelling at how fast they had ingested the tasty breakfast.

  
It was decided that they would have a movie day, since they discovered that the boys had never seen the Jurassic park movies. Well, neither Greg nor John could have that kind of scandal on their hands, never seen Jurassic park!! Greg considered that a rite of passage to being a British Child, and he was happy to be the one to introduce the franchise to the Holmes boys.   
  


Sherlock sat curled up in Greg’s lap, his beloved Mr Bee clutched tightly in his tiny little hands, as per usual. Sherrinford and Mycroft sat either side of John, and they all had a hand in the middle of the sofa so that they were all in contact. It was quite sweet when Greg thought back over it later on.   
  


Small squeals erupted from the boys and even though he wouldn’t admit it, from Greg, when the T Rex came on the screen.

They sat like this throughout the film, only moving so that Greg could change the disc to the second movie. Little Sherlock soon fell asleep and Greg went and put him into him and johns bed, since he needed the sleep after his ordeal.

After Jurassic park, they watched Tremors, and that went down a treat with Myc and Ford. They absolutely adored it. Giggled throughout the movie, and then afterwards they spent a good 40 minutes making up silly names for the worm like monsters that are depicted in the film. Everyone was in fits of laughter at some of the ridiculous suggestions, and for a while it was like everything was normal.   
  


Soon enough they got hungry, and Greg decided that they should all make something together, cook it all as a group, so they could spend more time together. Everyone thought that it was a lovely idea, and they set to work.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> sooo I hope you enjoyed. I know it was short but it’ll be edited to be longer soon. This is mostly just my base for this chapter but I needed to put something out!!! 
> 
> Love- myc x


	9. what he was capable of

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello! I’ve been in a rough patch recently, so motivation is nowhere to be found, and I’m sorry this is late. But with the aid of a good strong cup of tea and Spotify, I finally have this chapter copied up and posted!! I hope you enjoy, and there will be more soon. 
> 
> I appreciate and love you all!!!
> 
> -myc x

**221b Baker St.**

  
  


John thought that Sherrinford looked positively pale. He was completely engrossed in slicing the carrots, in his own little world. Every so often he would flinch, as if in pain but wanting to hide it. This worried John no end. He decided he was going to find out what was going on, he knew that there were no superficial injuries since he had checked, but ‘ford kept shifting his feet and he had a slight, and barely noticeable grimace on his face when he walked. This could be serious, so John told Sherrinford to go and wait upstairs. 

‘Greg, I’m really worried about ‘ford. I’m going to go chat to him upstairs, and find out what’s going on. From what I can tell there’s a chance that I’m going to be taking him to Barts, so just keep the others occupied for a bit?’

Greg understood, and John climbed the stairs to his old bedroom.  He walked in to find Sherrinford curled up in his sheets, buried in a cocoon of blankets and staring blankly into the ceiling. This worried John even more, as from what he knew of Sherrinford he was a perceptive little boy, he noticed everything, just like his siblings, yet he hadn’t even registered Johns presence.

‘Hey ‘ford. I need to know what’s wrong sweetheart, you I can tell you are hurting, in lots of ways, and I need you to tell me what’s going on. I really want you to be okay, will you let me help you?’

Sherrinford looked over at John and just nodded, fast, like he needed to get the movement that made him agree over with before he changed his mind.

‘Do you want me to ask questions or do you want to explain? Either is okay. I care about you.’

Sherrinford took a deep breath, and sat up, though still with a wall of blankets surrounding him. The fear in his eyes was clear, yet none of it showed in his body language. That upset John, what child should have to shield their emotions like that? 

‘I’ll just explain. It’s easier. I was going to tell you this morning, but myc’ was there and he can’t know. It shouldn’t be there issue to deal with. But I know that I probably need medical attention, I realised that about an hour ago. I’m just going to get straight to the point because otherwise I won’t be able to say it.’

John could see that Sherrinford was blinking back tears and trying his best to keep himself calm, so he didn’t say anything to hinder his emotions, just nodded and smiled warmly, inviting Sherrinford to continue.

‘So, um. Wow this is difficult. I’ve never told anyone before. I thought it would be easier than this’

He clenched his fists, and began.

‘So, you know about how, my father, treated us? Well, he always told me that because I’m the oldest child, I’m special, so I got ‘special treatment’. 

Johns heart sank. He really hoped that this wasn’t going to be what he suspected. He really hoped, nobody deserved that, especially not a child.

Tears began to fall from the young boys eyes, yet he steeled himself and carried on.

‘What he called ‘special treatment’ used to be just touches, in places I would rather not be touched, then as I got older it became him making me do things I didn’t want to do, I hated it but he would hit me if I fought him away. I hid it from the boys because they didn’t need to know what he was capable of, they shouldn’t have to live in fear of him. Mother knew, she saw, but she never did anything, just turned a blind eye. It grew more and more often, then the night that they brought little ‘Lock back, he went all the way for the first time. John I feel so dirty. I feel violated and I hate it, I hate it so much’ 

With that he began to cry, and not just tears, great wracking sobs that heaved his small body. John wrapped the boy in his arms, and whispered a mantra of ‘you’re going to be okay, I’m so sorry’ into his ear. 

After a few minutes, Sherrinford calmed a little, but didn’t pull back from Johns arms. John took this opportunity to begin talking to him, but he did so in hushed tones so that he didn’t startle Sherrinford too much.

‘Oh sweetheart, thankyou for telling me. I’m so sorry, nobody deserves that and I’m so sorry you had to go through that. You are so brave for opening up, thankyou for trusting me’

He just gripped the boy tighter and they sat there, in the cocoon of blankets, just letting Sherrinford know that he was loved without using words. 

‘’Ford, I’m going to need to take you to Barts to check you over. We can get you a private room, I can do the examination and tests, and unless there is something seriously wrong or in need of treatment I can’t give them you won’t need to be submitted okay? I need you to trust me alright?’

Sherrinford nodded, then they both went slowly down the stairs, since Sherrinford was in pain he couldn’t walk too fast. 

‘Greg, me and ‘Ford are just popping out okay? We will be back soon, I’ll call you.’

John gave Greg an ‘I’ll explain to you later’ look and Greg understood, also judging by Sherrinfords puffy red eyes then something was going on. 

‘Hey ‘ford? Make sure John behaves would you? He can be a right pain!’

This earned a giggle from Sherrinford and a glare from John, and Greg took that as a win. He was worried, but he knew that ford was in the best hands with John, so he could trust that he’d be okay. 

  
  
  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> hellooooo! I hope you enjoyed it, there’s more to come soon. Let me know what you thought, you are all appreciated. If you are affected by the topics of this chapter, please don’t hesitate to speak out. You are strong💖 I love you all!
> 
> -myc x


	10. panic induced

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> hello!! I’m sorry for updating late, things have been hectic the last few days, but I’m here now!!! I’ll be updating more this week so keep coming back!!!
> 
> Love myc xox

Once they got to Barts, after showers of high and kisses from Mrs Hudson, who was smitten with the boys, John took Sherrinford in for an examination.   
  


A full set of bloods, ECG’s, V blood gas, vitals, BP and U&E’s, John did a very thorough job. He knew that after an assault like Sherrinfords, there were many issues that could arise and he didn’t want anything left undetected. Especially since he had left it a week to confide in john, an infection was a likely situation, and Sherrinfords symptoms were nothing short of worrying.

Sherrinfords results soon came back, and John looked over them for a good 10 minutes, with one fist clenched tight enough to leave bruises in his palm and the other pinching the bridge of his nose, thinking about the least traumatic and best course of action. He knew that this needed surgery, and there was no way out of it. The internal injury was just short of fatal, and he knew that if he didn’t get his boy into surgery in the next two hours then he would go into shock from internal blood loss.

Putting on his calmest voice, and trying to keep his voice from wobbling with unshed tears, John began to explain to Sherrinford what needed to happen.

’ ‘Ford, sweetheart, come sit here a minute.’

As he sat down, John let out a pained sigh.

’listen carefully okay? The things that happened to you were horrible, so horrible, and it’s hurt you on the inside more than expected. And because of the nature of the injury you are going to have t-to have surgery to fix it okay?’

Sherrinford looked blankly at John. For a second John wondered whether he was just processing the information, but then he noticed that the boy was scratching the back of his left hand and digging his nails in with his right, and that his breaths were quickly turning rapid. Shit.

’Sherrinford, honey, can you breathe with me?’

John made his own breathing more exaggerated for Sherrinford to follow along, but the boy seemed to not register johns presence. He drew blood on the back of his hand, and that was when he seemed to notice that he wasn’t breathing. His gaze flipped suddenly from blank and glassy, to fearful and scared. John began a mantra of ‘its okay, you're okay, I’ve got you’ , and pulled him into a hug, not tight enough to cause more panic but tight enough to be grounding. Sherrinford buried his head into johns jumper, seeming to just breathe in johns scent and remind himself that he is okay. After about 10 minutes Sherrinford finally began to breathe a little more evenly, and John let out a breath that he didn’t realise he had been holding.

Sherrinford mumbled a quiet apology, obviously not used to having somebody there to comfort him, and johns heart dropped.

’hey, there is nothing, absolutely nothing that you have to be sorry for. Okay? You had a panic attack, lots of people have panic attacks regularly. You want to know something? Since I’ve been back from the war I have panic attacks. It’s okay love. Does it happen often?’

Sherrinford dropped his eyes to the floor, suddenly finding the curves in the lino extremely interesting.

’um, yeah I suppose. But I never told myc, and Sherlock wouldn’t get it.’

John just pulled him into his chest tighter, and ran his fingers through the boys hair.   
  


Sherrinford groaned as if in pain, and John knew that he needed to be booked in for surgery ASAP, and because of his position as an on call GP and occasional locum surgeon at St Barts, he could shortlist Sherrinford and have him in theatre within the hour. If he had his way, he would be on the surgical team for his boy but he knew that was a bad idea, and he wouldn’t be allowed anyway.

’right ‘ford. You really need this surgery, so shall we get you booked into a room now, I’ll bring molly in to start your observation and get you hooked up to IV whilst I go call Greg?’

  
10 minutes later Sherrinford was in a private room hooked up to various machines, in a hospital gown, in a three-quarter size hospital bed courtesy of Johns position at Barts. Molly Hooper, a close friend of Greg and John, and also the lead morgue technician at Barts.

John ruffled Sherrinfords hair, then stepped out of the room and had to blink back tears while pressing Greg’s speed dial.

’John, John honey are you okay? You never use my speed dial.’

In a voice thick with tears, John Spoke back to his worried fiancé.

’yeah. Well, no. Sort of. I need you and the boys to get to Barts as soon as you can. Bring yourself an overnight bag, stuff for me aswell if you don’t mind, but don’t worry about the boys, molly said she’ll take them back to Baker Street and mind them overnight while we are here. I’ll explain when you get here, theres too much to say now but please hurry, I need you. I love you.’

‘I love you too, I’ll be there as soon as possible okay? Whatever is going on I’ll be there for you. Love you so much.’

The line went dead and Greg’s heart was stuck in his throat. What could be going on? None of the situations racing through his head were anywhere near ideal, even the most positive ones were making Greg want to cry.   
  


After dashing about and packing up overnight clothes for him and John, and a the books that they were currently reading, Greg walked into the living room, to tell the boys where they were going.

He almost couldn’t bear to tell them, Sherlock was lay in Mycrofts lap, asleep, and mycroft had a book in one hand and was running his hand through Sherlocks raven curls with the other.   
  


Greg woke a sleepy Sherlock up and with a worn expression looked at the two boys, contemplating what to say.

’John has just called me, and we need to go to the hospital to meet him and ‘Ford, I don’t know why, I know nothing at the moment, but you boys remember molly? She’s coming to look after you here at the flat while I stay there with John. I’m not sure what’s going on but I think it’s your brother.’

Tears began to fall from Greg’s eyes, and mycroft and Sherlock both pulled him into a hug. Mycroft mumbled something and went to the bathroom. Greg thought he’d just been but he probably imagined it. He thought it odd but the fear preoccupied his brain, so he brushed it off.

Sherlock looked at him with silent tears running down his cheeks, with a silent question in his stormy grey eyes.

Greg pulled him into a tight hug, and answered his unvoiced thoughts.

’It’ll all be okay sunshine, it’ll all be fine’

He wasn’t sure whether he was trying to comfort the small boy in his arms or himself.


	11. past trauma

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> HELLO!!!! Sorry I haven’t updated since last week, I’m going back to school on Monday since my parents are key workers so I get to go back! I’ve been getting prepared for that, I GET TO WEAR HOODIES TO SCHOOL!!! anyway, I can write more when I’m at school so updates will be easier. 
> 
> I didn’t detail the trauma in this chapter as much as I had planned. I was going to, but as a relevant subject to my own life it was too difficult, I found I couldn’t get across how much of a violation it feels like, I couldn’t get the words correct. So forgive me for lack of acute details ::
> 
> LOVE YOU ALL!!!!!
> 
> -myc xox

Whilst Sherrinford was being observed for surgery, Mycroft and Sherlock sat on his bed with him and played snap, keeping his mind off of the impending operation.

John pulled Greg and Molly out of the hospital room so he could explain the situation. He knew that he had to be careful with his words, Greg’s childhood wasn’t exactly kind to him, but he couldn’t keep it from Greg, he needed to know. It took a lot for John to pluck up the courage to explain, he didn’t want Greg to go through a flashback or panic attack, but he knew it was a distinct possibility in the current situation, so he treaded carefully. He was on thin ice with this.

By the time he had explained, with carefully chosen sentences and phrases, Molly was in tears and Greg, well, Greg wasn’t there.

His eyes were glassed over, silent tears tumbling down his cheeks. John knew there was something going on in his head, most likely a flashback. He used the fact that his hand was in Greg’s and led them into the staff room, shooing everyone else out and staying as quiet as possible, not wanting to cause anything more.   
  
——

_A little boy, about 8 years old. Thick brown hair, with scuffed trainers and grass-stained_

_knees just coming in from playing in the park with his best friend. He had savoured the fun he was having, whilst playing and being a carefree kid, but he knew it wouldn’t last. Walking gently through the house, padding up the stairs and into his bedroom, only to see his mums boyfriend sat in the rocking chair in his room, reading the newspaper.  
_

_‘Hello Greg! did you have fun?’_

_  
Greg felt like he was watching from the sidelines, but he couldn’t move towards the little boy or the mums boyfriend._

_’NOOOOO LEAVE, LEAVE HIM ALONE PLEASE, PLEASE’_

_He couldn’t stop what he knew was going to happen. He tried to run and grab the little boy, pull him to safety, save him from the horrors that he was about to go through, but he couldn’t. He knew every detail of this scenario, every way he couldn’t stop it, how much it was his fault no matter how many times John told him it wasn’t._

_He didn’t want to see this again. Time after time, seeing that dirty man have his hands all over that poor little boy, the little boy who he could never save._

_He felt as if it was all his fault._

_—-_

Greg was deathly still on the sofa that John had managed to sit him on. He was sobbing, and kept saying ‘no, please don’t. Please don’t do it, please’

Everytime Greg had a flashback, everytime he relapsed into self harm, everytime he had a nightmare, it broke johns heart. But he would be strong and stay by his side, be the shoulder to cry on and the constant in a world that is always changing. Knowing that those 3 little Holmes boys had been through what Greg had as a child, made him want them so much more. He was going to help them. 

  
  


—-

_Dean, the mums boyfriend, picked up the little boy then sat on the bed with him on his lap. The little boy looked at him with tears in his eyes._

_’I’ve been a good boy, I promise.’_

_’no. You’ve only been a good boy when I say you have. You know what you have to do don’t you?’_

_’I don’t want to. Not today. Please?’_

_The little boy began to cry. He began to sob, harder than he had ever before. He knew what was coming._

_He imagined himself in a garden, with beautiful roses and hydrangeas, gorgeous green grass and the loveliest smell of freshly mowed lawn. He ignored everything that was happening in the real world, all of the pain, all of the hurt, and just walked through his garden. He was safe there._

_Greg wasn’t so lucky. Try as he might, he couldn’t get to his special garden. He watched Dean smother the little boy in disgusting, dirty kisses, he felt it on his own body. He screamed and shouted, kicked and tried to get away but nothing would work. Why wouldn’t it work? All he wanted was to get that dirty man off of him and he never could. No matter how many cuts he carved into his arms, no matter how many years went by, that man was the thing of his nightmares. He could never escape it. He tried to look away, but his eyes were forced to watch himself as a little boy, be raped, contaminated by that disgusting excuse of a human being that his mum adored._

_—-_

Greg began to scratch at his arms, the backs of his hands, quickly drawing blood from the freshly healed cuts on his knuckles from the incident at Scotland Yard. John held his hands to keep him from injuring himself further, and tried his best to calm his fiancé down.   
  


‘no, stop, stop, I don’t want to live with this anymore!!!’ Greg shouted at John, but John knew he wasn’t seeing what was really around him, but probably a scene from past trauma that occurred in his childhood.   
  


‘Sweetheart, it’s John. I’m here okay? You’re at Barts hospital, we live at 221b Baker Street with Mrs Hudson who isn’t our housekeeper, we have three gorgeous boys under our care and one of them really needs you right now. You’re okay, you’re safe my dear’ 

  
Greg blinked, once, twice, then his pupils dilated and he finally saw his real surroundings. He saw John, his fiancé, not dean, and he broke down into Johns arms.

‘I’m so sorry. This is so stupid I’m so sorry love, can I see ‘Ford?’

’are you sure? Mollys in there right now, shall we get a cup of tea and then go? You should have some sugar, you’re probably exhausted after that.’

John flicked the kettle on and while they waited, Greg lay in his lap and just breathed in the scent of his fiancé. His man, his world.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> hello!!! Feel free to criticism in the comms, kudos are always appreciated xox
> 
> -Myc x


	12. uncomfortable chairs, teddy bears

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I’m sorry this one is short, lots of things have happened in my personal life that have really played with my emotions in the past week and I’m just struggling to process things right now. The last chapter really hit home for me, and all of your nice comments really made me feel better after a difficult week. I’m sorry that updates have been slow, my mental well-being isn’t the best right now but thankyou for sticking around with me!!! Thankyou for standing with survivors of sexual assault, survivors like myself, it’s heartwarming to see people understanding the long term affects on people instead of saying to jsut get over it.
> 
> I love you all incredibly much
> 
> -myc xxx

**the next morning, st barts**

John woke in Greg’s warm, comforting arms, in a not so comforting hospital sofa bed. It took him a second to remember where he was, but the sadness hit him as soon as he saw the empty space where the hospital bed had previously been. Molly had left with the other boys just before Sherrinford was taken up to surgery. The nurses had brought him back in the early hours of the morning, but since he wouldn’t wake from the strong anaesthetics for hours yet John and Greg had fell back asleep, deciding not to stay up if Sherrinford wouldn’t be conscious.

John stood, but immediately sat back down again upon noticing the crick in his neck and the aches in his muscles.

‘Damn these cheap hospital sofabeds’ he cursed to no one in particular.

As Greg stirred, he thought to go downstairs and get teas for them both, so he made his way toward the hospital cafè. On his way there, he saw a mum clutching a teddy bear behind her back, ready to give to her son, and an idea popped into his head.

He took Greg his tea, and told him he’d be back soon.   
  


As he stepped out of the antiseptic environment of the hospital, it took John a moment to adjust. He’d been at the hospital for almost a full 24 hours, and it was easy to forget that when something big happens to you that the world carries on around you. Once his eyes had adjusted to the natural light, in contrast to the harsh artificial ones of the hospital, John set off on the short walk to the destination he had in mind.   
  


Two roads down from St. Bartholemews hospital, in between two blocks of cookie-cutter London flats, sat a small, rustic toy shop, with wooden awning, and small wooden trains in the windows. Johns nana Watson used to take him and Harry there once each year, just after the school term finished for the 6 week holiday, and let them pick one toy each for getting themselves through the school year. John stood outside for a second, feeling nostalgic, before stepping through the fairy-tale door into the shop.

Even Johns jaw dropped slightly when he stepped in, seeing all the handmade wooden puzzles and soldiers, trains and animals. For a second his heart hurt, knowing that unlike the other boys, when Sherrinford got to Baker Street he hadn’t really had any ‘special’ things, only a blanket with farm animals on it, which he slept with for comfort. John knew what he wanted, and upon looking into the cuddly toys area he knew instantly what he was going to buy for ‘ford.

He picked up an incredibly fluffy and soft light brown rabbit, with long, soft, floppy ears and the cutest button nose, brilliant brown eyes and a tiny, cotton tail. He knew that Sherrinford enjoyed the tales of peter rabbit, he’d seen the set of books on the windowsill of the upstairs bedroom of Baker Street, and he also didn’t want to get something too babyish that Sherrinford wouldn’t like. The small, comforting rabbit was perfect for Sherrinford, John was sure of it. He payed at the counter, and with his items set back off to the hospital.

Sherrinford had just began to stir as John got back into the room, and Greg was dozing on the offensively uncomfortable sofa bed.   
  


‘j’hn?’ Sherrinford slurred his words, still slightly groggy from the anaesthetic.   
  


‘hey sweetheart, how are you feeling?’

’like I’ve just had my insides fiddled about with’

John chuckled, it was a good sign that he was up to making jokes, it showed signs that the surgery and 5 hour dialysis had taken affect. Sherrinford had been slowly developing internal septicaemia, meaning the toxins had affected his mood, so the joke was definitely a positive start.   
  


‘Gregs still sl’ping?’

’no I am not young man! How do you feel?’ Greg said whilst bolting upright with a huge grin on his face. John and Sherrinford got the giggles on seeing Greg almost topple off of the sofa bed while trying to convince them he was awake, whilst in reality still being half asleep and clearly disoriented.

John and Greg sat on the large hospital bed and gave ‘ford a gentle but meaningful hug, and a kiss on the forehead from each man.

John pulled out his shopping bag, and handed it to the young boy. ‘It’s not much, but I know this kind of thing means a lot to you and yet you don’t have anything with you. I thought you might like something special, something that’s yours only.’ John explained with a smile.   
  


Sherrinford pulled the soft toy out of the bag, and already had tears pricking at the back of his eyes. He looked at John, then to Greg, and with a quiet exclamation of ‘it’s perfect’, pulled both Greg and John into another hug. At this moment, molly walked in with the two younger boys, who both ran over to join in the group hug.   
  


Greg looked at his fiancé, and knew it was the right time.

’boys, me and John really want to ask you something. In the time we have known you, you three boys have made a huge impact on our lives. We couldn’t imagine our lives without you now, and we would like to know if.. if you would let us adopt you?’

John and Greg were once again engulfed in the arms of 3 tearful boys. A mixture of ‘yes, please could you, thankyou thankyou thankyou’ along with a happy noise from Sherlock could be heard. Greg turned to molly, who was stood in the corner with happy tears falling down her cheeks, and asked her something which he already knew the answer to.   
  


‘molly, we have to pick a godparent during the adoption process. Would you do the honour? Of being auntie to our boys?’

She practically jumped for joy, and John pulled her into the group hug, making the whole clan dissolve into fits of giggles.   
  


Little Sherlock stood in the middle, and poked each person in turn until he had everyone’s attention. When all eyes were on him, he took a deep breath. Pointing to Greg, then John, then molly, in turn, saying just one word to each.

’papa, dada, antee!’

Everyone exchanged bewildered looks, and Sherrinford and Mycroft cheered loudly, Greg picked little Sherlock up and spun him around in a tight embrace. The littlest Holmes hadn’t uttered a sound since being at Baker Street, he had been a selective mute before being taken but once he was back it seemed to be permanent. Everyone knew there was still a way to go but this was a huge step. Greg’s heart fluttered at the paternal names he and John had been entrusted with, and it was now set in stone that they had made the right decision. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I love you all.
> 
> -myc


	13. as a family

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Just so people are aware, this chapter is focused on something I’ve experienced very recently, and so I’m sorry is this isn’t an accurate portrayal, but this is just an edited version of my own experiences, and my own feelings. sorry about the wait for this chapter, mental health has gone down the drain, I’m having a lot of counselling at school and stuff so writing isn’t as high in my priorities as I would like, but I promise all of you that this story will NOT be orphaned at any point in the near future. This story holds a deep place in my heart for so many reasons, and you all have made it so much more special for letting me share something like this. You all are phenomenal human beings, and I hope you all are keeping well. Thankyou for sticking by me, it means the world.
> 
> \- love myc xox

**221b Baker St.**

Greg and John were exhausted, but they had to admit that they wouldn’t give it up for the world. They were getting to know each lad more in depth everyday, each of their once carefully guarded and hidden personalities were beginning to show up, beginning to flourish.   
  


On the day that Sherrinford needed his stitches removed (by John at home, Sherrinford still didn’t trust doctors), Molly Hooper took Sherlock and Mycroft with her to get mrs Hudson some shopping, so they nabbed their chance at some alone time with their eldest soon-to-be son.

’hey ‘ford! Come to change your bandages?’ Greg announced while he was knocking on the door, a symbol of privacy and trust that they had developed with their boys. When no reply came, John and Greg shared a look of concern, and then gently opened the door to the bedroom.

Sherrinford sat in the corner, head hung, and the small fluffy rabbit clutched in his hands, and the sounds of gentle sobbing echoed around the room. He was shaking, and his breathing laboured. Shit.  
  


Greg saw the two items of clothing that lay crumpled on the far end of the room, figuring that a usually organised and tidy Sherrinford would not have thrown them and then broken down for no reason. He knew exactly what had happened, he wished he didn’t know, but he was glad that he knew how he could help.

He slowly approached the trembling boy, and slid his back down the wall to sit near him, whispering gentle words of comfort and running his fingers through the black head of hair that sat before him.

—

_John sat against the wall, next to him, whispering gentle words of comfort. He placed a soft hand upon his knee, and laid his sandy brown head upon his shoulder._

_—_

Greg said just five words. Five unassuming, seemingly meaningless words to the passer by, five words that would lock away atleast some of the darkness that had consumed him upon seeing those two disgusting pieces of fabric. Five words that would set Sherrinford upon a path of recovery, a path of hope, a path of love.

’he cannot hurt you anymore’

—

_John said just five words. Five unassuming, seemingly meaningless words to the passer by, five words that would lock away atleast some of the darkness that had consumed him upon seeing those two disgusting pieces of fabric. Five words that would set Greg upon a path of recovery, a path of hope, a path of love._

_’he cannot hurt you anymore’_

_—_

Sherrinford looked up at Greg, looked deep into his eyes, and somehow he knew that Greg understood. He didn’t know how, and he didn’t know why, but he knew that he was finally safe.   
  


—

_Greg looked up at John, looked deep into his eyes, and somehow knew that he cared enough to try to understand. He didn’t know how, and he didn’t know why, why he would want to do that. But he knew that he was finally safe._

_—_

His heart hurt. Those stupid clothes had been a part of what ruined his life. Ruined his childhood. It wasn’t fair, to have something so pure ripped from you, at just 11 years old. It wasn’t fair, it felt like betrayal. Why him? Why did it have to happen to him. Not that he wished it upon anyone else, he could never wish such an emptying, disgusting feeling upon to anyone, but he just didn’t want it on him anymore. No matter how many times he sat in the bottom of the shower, scrubbing his skin to rid himself of that vile man, it wouldn’t go away _._

A red hoodie and a pair of dinosaur pyjamas sat strewn on the floor opposite them. Greg knew that those were them, those were what _it_ happened in. He knew how much that ached, to think that it was still connected to you, no matter how many hot showers and body scrubs you go through. How two stupid bits of cloth can mess up the carefully balanced equilibrium of recovery.

John sat the other side of Greg, and Sherrinford jumped into the middle and just cried. Cried his little heart out. And Sherrinford knew that this would be the start of his new life, and that he wouldn’t be hurt anymore. He could feel the love, the love of two people who were once strangers, an invalided army doctor and a Scotland Yard Detective Inspector, two people who chose to take him and his little brothers in. Two people that had changed their lives for the better, changed their lives forever.

’We can burn them if you want’ Greg whispered into the young boys ear.

Sherrinford chuckled, and just one word more and then they all sat in each other’s arms in silence for a few very calm, very still minutes.

‘please’

—

_  
A navy blue training jumper and a pair of denim shorts lay stranded along the floor.  
_ ‘Those. _T_ _hose are them, those were what it happened in’_

_His heart hurt. Those stupid clothes had been a part of what ruined his life. Ruined his childhood. It wasn’t fair, to have something so pure ripped from you, at just 11 years old. It wasn’t fair, it felt like betrayal. Why him? Why did it have to happen to him. Not that he wished it upon anyone else, he could never wish such an emptying, disgusting feeling upon to anyone, but he just didn’t want it on him anymore. No matter how many times he sat in the bottom of the shower, scrubbing his skin to rid himself of that vile man, it wouldn’t go away._

_  
John could tell how much that ached, to think that it was still connected to you, no matter how many hot showers and body scrubs you go through. How two stupid bits of cloth can mess up the carefully balanced equilibrium of recovery._

_Greg just cried into johns shoulder, cried all the pain out. But he knew this was the start of his new life, a life of strength and love._

_John lowered his head to whisper into the mans ear._

_’We can burn them if you want’_

_Greg chuckled, and just one word more and then they sat in each other’s arms in silence for a few very calm, very still minutes._

_‘please’_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> hi!!! Let me know how this chapter is. I love you all!!! I’m sorry that the POV and stuff is all over the place, i wanted to get across the confusion and feeling of something being out of place to come through? I will be editing this chapter soon, this is just so there’s something up on here so I’m not leaving everyone hanging!! 
> 
> Love u all,
> 
> -myc


	14. troubling deductions

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> hey guys! I’m sorry I was away for so long. I recently came clean about my assault and abuse to my school, against my mums wishes so things have been very hard. I’ve struggled with being suicidal too, but I’m not leaving if I can help it. I’m not really meant to go on my phone, but I love this story with my whole heart and I wanted to carry on.
> 
> I get it if people don’t want to read anymore, I should of updated sooner but I’m back now!!! For those of you still here, thankyou, and for new people hi!!!
> 
> I love you all so much, really I do, it’s Nuts how much this has impacted my life. 
> 
> Lots and lots of love, myc xx

Greg lay in bed, alone. Cold from kicking off the sheets, sweating from the troubling deduction that was rattling through his head far too fast for his liking.

John had been called on a night shift at st. Barts, and Mrs Hudson had the boys in her flat because Greg hadn’t slept enough lately. But still, in the quiet of 221b, on a silent London night, he couldn’t sleep. He couldn’t give himself that, not when there was something so wrong going on right under his nose.

  
Why? He had a hunch. A hunch that made his stomach curl, his heart beat far too fast and far too hard, and his throat tighten as if being suffocated. It felt suffocating to him, this thing that he’d figured out no more than 2 hours ago. It made him want to be sick and cry in a corner, never have to face the ugly world ever again.

He had enough of his own demons to recognise someone else’s, even if unintentionally. It becomes habit.

When you do something for long enough, you begin to apply it to everyone else. You look at people in the street, teenage girls with long sleeves constantly being tugged down, and think do they do it too? You see young men with small, cigarette burn shaped scars, and think do they do it too? You see someone wince at a touch, or gasp at a movie scene, or pull at their clothes, and you hate the world for what it’s done to the innocents. 

It felt like a weight on his chest knowing that other people did that too. The fear of someone finding out.

——

_he was sat in maths with his favourite teacher, the only teacher he really trusted not to betray him or go behind his back. She’d asked him if he’d been drawing on himself when his sleeve fell slightly, and he’d laughed and said yes, but on the inside his stomach dropped and he pulled his sleeve back into his fist and put his head down and focused on his work._

_His teacher seemed to look through him for a few seconds, he could feel her eyes burning into the side of his head, and in that moment he hoped she didn’t figure it out._

_but then came the dreaded sentence._

_’Gregory, can you go and wait outside for me please?’_

_The whole class watched as he stood up, shuffled around the tables and shut the door behind him. He just knew he was in so much trouble, so so so much trouble, and it made him feel cheated out of a secret.  
_

_he stood and cried, and waited for his favourite teacher, sure that she was going to hate him for what he was._

_——_

  
Thats how Greg felt. He felt cheated for himself, and for john, and for his boys.  
He hated the world, hated it with a passion. He saw the fear in his little boys eyes when he put the shopping down a little too hard, or walked up the stairs a little to heavily, he saw their pupils constrict and their breathing become that little bit faster. But most of all, he saw Mycroft. 

He noticed the permanent addition of a hoodie, the quiet trips to the bathroom when anything gets tough. He noticed the muffled sobs coming from the bathroom or the kitchen in the middle of the night, when he can’t sleep. He noticed the polite refusals of medical attention, the long socks pulled all the way up and the checks that he’s the only one around before coming out of the bathroom after a shower. He’s figured out why Mycroft does those little things, and it hurts like hell.

But he can’t do anything in the moment, not until he is sure, because from experience he knows how much worse handling it wrong can make it. He needs to tell john, as soon as he gets home. John needs to know, Greg cant do this on his own. He knew that his little boys would each have their own ways of coping, but he had hoped and even prayed to a god that he didn’t believe in that none of them would resort to this.  
  


It only clicked a few hours ago, when he pulled the little boy into a hug and he saw a small amount of dried blood on the thumb of his son, and the small line pressed into his thumb, presumably from the grip of a razor blade. He hoped that it wasn’t too bad, and that mycroft wasn’t too deep into it that it would be a challenge to stop. But he knew deep down that this had probably been happening for a long time, and the root of the problem was back at Musgrave hall.   
  


it burned his lungs, thinking about his little boy going through that pain. So much pain that he felt the need to drag something sharp across his skin just to feel something he can control. Greg pulled his own sleeve up, and ran his finger gently over the hundreds of long faded yet still rough scars. He still did it sometimes, but only when it gets bad.

He wished John would hurry up. There’s no use in laying in bed he thought, so at 2:13am Greg lestrade untangled himself from the sheets and made for the kitchen to make himself a cup of tea.

—-

John sat in the staff room with a hot cup of tea, deliberating if he was imagining things or not. Recently, Mycroft had been acting odd. Slightly too long trips to the bathroom, always a hoodie, the protective stances, never letting anyone near his arms or thighs, the long socks pulled up as far as they can go. He saw those behaviours in Greg years ago, he sees them in patients nearly every day, yet he still hoped he was wrong.

He knew it would break Greg, to know his boy was feeling that pain, but he did need to know. John made the decision to tell Greg when he got home. He hadn’t been sleeping anyway, so he’d most likely be awake.

Silent tears ran down his cheeks at the thought of Mycroft being in so much pain, and he felt so very angry. Angry at the people who were meant to love and care for him, but let him fall into a habit so destructive it could quite literally kill him.   
  


John knew there was hope though, they can save it before it gets too bad. Well, he hopes they can, the thought of losing him is too much.   
  


‘dr Watson, emergency trauma can you come’ blasted through the staff room intercom, pulling John from his thoughts, and he rushes back to what he does best, leaving the cup of tea going cold on the staff room desk.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> thankyou for being here!!! Xx


	15. i hope we’re wrong

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> hello! thankyou all for being so supportive of me, and understanding why I took some time away. All of your kind words have really had a positive impact, it’s made clear that this tough time that I’m going through isn’t going to last forever, you really do all mean so much to me. 
> 
> This chapter is a short one, but it’s an important one. It’s gonna be a bumpy ride for our new dads, and I hope I can get across the anguish of this sort of problem. Sorry for the cliffhanger on this one!! next chapter will be up this week. I wanted to not do this in 2 parts, but I got a bit emotional while writing and I thought it best to split it in two. Hope you don’t mind!!
> 
> I hope you all enjoy and I wish you all well,  
> -myc x

Mycroft woke with a start, drenched in sweat and tears running down his face. Another nightmare. He really wished he could just let go of everything that happened, stop having these stupid flashbacks and nightmares but he knew it wasn’t that easy. He knew he had most of the symptoms of PTSD, but too scared to ask John to confirm his suspicions. Probably a silly bit of logic on his part, because it was obvious John himself had PTSD, Mycroft often heard him calling out in the night when he couldn’t sleep, so theoretically he shouldn’t have an issue with telling John. But theories aren’t always correct, something which mycroft knew all too well. 

He’d theorised that once Sherlock was born that his parents would lay off of them and begin to treat them right. He’d been wrong.

He’d theorised that he could stop cutting whenever he wanted, also wrong. He’d theorised that moving in with John and Greg would make all the pain go away, and although he wasn’t totally wrong, he wasn’t totally right either. It was behind them, Mycroft knew that, but he also knew that trauma isn’t something that just goes away, and that was some of the most painful knowledge he had ever gained.

After laying for a while but failing to fall back into fitful sleep, well, downright terrified of falling back asleep, Mycroft decided to creep up from Mrs Hudson’s back to 221b. He needed some release. He’d be throwing away 4 days clean, his longest clean streak in a long time, but he felt it necessary. The nightmares were getting far to frequent and if he did it now he could go longer, or atleast he thought he could. Tip toeing through the living room, past Greg who was passed out at the table next to a cold cup of tea, Mycroft made his way into the bathroom, quietly shifted the bath panel and grabbed his bag. John shouldn’t be home til morning, and it was unlikely Greg would wake considering his lack of sleep so he had plenty of time.

——

John couldn’t take anymore. He had 3 hours til the end of his shift- but he felt so sick from worry that he decided to finish early on the pretence of family emergency. Well, it wasn’t really a lie was it?

John felt so angry at Violet and Siger Holmes. They’d gone out almost every night, throwing around their government jobs and trust fund money, and meanwhile the young Holmes boy had been likely holed up in his room with scalpels and razors and whatever demon he was up against...

John found it difficult to imagine even being aware that self mutilation was an option at that age,It just didn’t seem fair that a small boy felt so hurt inside that he felt it was his only option. He wished Mycroft hadn’t been aware either.

But John had a horrible feeling that it was much, much too late for that.

It seemed as if the universe was throwing everything in his way as he rushed to change out of his scrubs into civvies, but losing his socks in the process, a patient throwing up on his shoes as he was leaving the building, the complete lack of cabs at 3:40 in the morning, losing his wallet, and John really was at the end of his tether. It took him a while but finally he got himself 2 streets away from Baker Street, deciding to walk the rest of the way so he didn’t vomit all over the leather seats of the shiny black London cab.

Unlocking the door, something felt off. As he walked into the living room he realised what it was. Greg had fallen asleep at the kitchen table next to a half empty, stone cold cup of tea. He needed to talk with him, and even though he felt bad he still decided to wake him. This couldn’t wait. 

Soon enough, him and Greg were both sat Infront of hot cups of tea and ready to talk. John was worried about his fiancés reaction, but it needed to be done.

‘Look Greg, I think I’ve figured something out. I really hope I’m wrong, because I know it’s serious and I really don’t want to upset you but you need to know’ 

Greg butted in before he could carry on.

‘I think I know what you’re talking about. Mycroft. Isn’t it?’ John took a deep breath and nodded. 

‘Yeah. I think- I think he’s self harming.’

Greg held in a sob, but carried on. ‘I only figured it out earlier. What do we do John? What if I can’t handle it?’

—-

Mycroft snapped back to reality. He’d zoned out, but voiced stirred him. Oh god, that was John and Greg in the kitchen. They couldn’t find him like this. Black spots began to cloud his vision, and looking down at his arm he’d cut more times than he meant to, and he was losing a bit more blood than normal. With a mantra of ‘breathe, you’re okay’ in his head, he knew that he had to get them to help him before he went into a panic. The black spots were closing in, and he stumbled into the bathroom door and opened it clumsily.

—-

‘What was that?’ John swore that he heard something from the bathroom. Greg shook his head, but at that moment the door fell open and one Mycroft Holmes stumbled out, breathing heavily and covered in blood. 

John and Greg both ran toward him, John in doctor mode instantly began to look him over, but he couldn’t think straight. 

The bathroom was a mess. Blood smeared over the clean white tiles, though no sign of struggle or a second person. What happened hit John in the face like a right hook, and he snapped into action.

‘Mycroft, you need to stay awake for me okay? Come sit down so I can check you over.’

John lead the boy over to the sofa, leaving Greg throwing up in the toilet. He needed to find and stem the bleed, it’s not that he didn’t care for Greg but he needed to help mycroft first.

‘Right myc’ I know what you’ve done. I need to know where you’ve cut yourself and what you did it with. I need to take a look okay? You’re losing blood a bit too fast for my liking alright? Im gonna take your shirt off now, please don’t be too scared I’m not going to hurt you’

All John was getting out of him was unintelligible mumbling, so he was just going to tell the boy everything he did before he did it. John took off the boys shirt, and had to take a second to process what he saw. Cuts from wrist to shoulder, 2 deep enough to need stitches and a couple eligible for glue. 

—-

Mycroft wasn’t really processing what was going on. He knew John was there, dabbing at his arms with gauze and other medical supplies, he could hear retching from the bathroom, probably Greg. He didn’t blame Greg for throwing up to be honest, he was disgusting after all. He was really, really dizzy, and he theorised that he would pass out in a couple seconds. That was one theory he was right about, because the black spots took over and he let himself go into the darkness.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hope you enjoyed it!!


	16. so lost

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> hey! This was meant to post last Sunday but it didnt!! I’m so sorry, I came on here today to post but realised that ao3 hadn’t automatically posted for me :(( so sorry for the wait, I should have 2 chapters out this week for you to make up!! 
> 
> so I thought I should tell you a bit more about myself I suppose, since you’ve all been reading with me for a while now, and I’d love to get to know some of you!! I just turned 15 and I go into y11 this year. Scary right? I’ve been abused since I was little. The only person at my school who knew about not even the full extent left at the end of term to go and be a marine, I was so close to telling him everything but I didn’t think it would be fair to leave that with him when he left, he saved my life and I owe him everything to be honest. Myc isn’t my real name, but it’s a nickname my dad always called me because Ive always loved the ACD sherlock books. A scandal in bohemia is my favourite, just for the record. I love writing, I love that other people are enjoying what I’m writing! It gives me a reason to live, and at the moment even the smallest reasons are enough. Well, that’s enough from me now, I hope you enjoy this chapter!!! 
> 
> I love you all, - myc x

  
  


His eyes shot open.

suddenly very self aware.

Did he pass out? 

why can’t he breathe?

oh crap.

Panic attack.

“It’s alright mycroft, I’ve got you.”

John’s voice echoed in his head, the words “it’s okay, you’ll be fine, just breathe” repeated over and over like a chant.

His voice sounded close yet distant, like John was somewhere far away even though John was right there, holding his arm and pulling him close, rubbing his back in circles in an attempt to calm him down.

Myc shut his eyes in a tight squeeze, begging his body to stop, to slow down and just breathe; but the tightness in his chest made it an irrevocably difficult task. There simply was not enough oxygen in the room and he could feel himself losing consciousness as John's voice moved further and further away.

John, please help me.

John...

"No, Mycroft Holmes, you stay with me." John held his shoulders in a firm squeeze as he witnessed Myc’s eyes begin to flutter. "Mycroft you can do this, just breathe."

"I-- " Mycroft tried to say "I can't" but all he could make out was a congested wheeze, his Lungs barely getting enough air.

"Don't try to speak. Focus on your breathing. You'll be fine, I'm right here. I want you to take a deep breath until I count to four. Can you do that for me?"

Mycroft nodded.

"One, two, three, four. Alright now I want you to hold your breathe for eight seconds alright, you can do this."

Myc followed as instructed, holding his breath until John counted to eight.

"Good. Now breathe it out. Seven seconds, I want you to breathe it out."

Mycroft did as he was told, repeating the pattern of breathing as John guided him through it; four seconds of inhale, hold it for eight seconds, exhale for seven. Over and over, while his hand was held firmly in John's grasp.

With all the energy he could muster, Mycroft squeezed back at John's hand as a reminder to himself that John was truly here and present.

Suddenly he became aware of a sharp pain in his arm, like someone was dragging a knife- 

oh.

Then he remembered how he got into this god awful situation. And he felt guilt, remembering how worried John looked and Greg throwing up in the bathroom, guilt for messing up.

Why did he always have to mess up? He couldn’t even do the one thing that made him hurt less right.  


the knowledge that he had hurt himself hadn’t worked this time. He felt worse. For the first time, blade over skin, blood running and adrenaline flowing didn’t calm him. What if it wasn’t going to work anymore? what would he turn to? Somehow the worry clearly portrayed by Greg and John hurt him more than his parents ever did, not in a bad way but in a guilty way.    
  


‘John I’m sorry’

he looked at John, and could see his eyes fill with tears.

John looked at him with love and compassion, and just whispered ‘you have nothing to be sorry for. I love you’

And mycroft cried.

—-

  
Greg finally stopped being sick. He knew it was going to be hard, but he didn’t realise how many bad memories it would bring up.

The urge was stronger than ever after seeing his little boy stumble out of that bathroom, barely conscious, blood covering the white tiles. But he needed to be strong for them.

He felt bad for John. John had saved him every single time from the darkness that he stepped to when things got hard, and now he had to save 3 young boys from it too.

And Greg wanted to help, he will help, but there is no use telling the boys things that he himself doesn’t believe.

all three of them are cleverer than John and Greg put together, they’d realised that early on, but they were still kids.

and that is what hurt the most.

Those three boys have experienced more than most adults ever will, and Greg knew what that felt like. His childhood so closely resembled theirs that sometimes it hurt to hear what they went through.   
  


His PTSD had almost claimed his life on multiple occasions, he didn’t want his sons to go through that aswell. They had to stop this as soon as possible.

Greg knew how taking a blade to his skin calmed him. He knew how seeing the blood drip down his arms, or his legs, or his torso made him feel safe. He knew how freeing it could be. But it was a curse, a curse that he didn’t want his son bearing for the rest of his life.   
  


It had almost destroyed him so many times, he wouldn’t let it take sweet little mycroft too.

He cleaned himself up and left the bathroom, and seeing John and mycroft lay on the sofa together, med kit discarded on the floor and bloodstains left to be cleaned later brought on a wave of tears that had been pent up for the longest time.

He climbed onto the sofa and just cuddled mycroft. No words, he knew how the wrong thing can hurt more than the blade itself, so he just stayed silent and tried to show how much he loved him through action.

John grabbed his hand and squeezed, trying to reassure him, and although he appreciated the sentiment he knew that things wouldn’t be okay for a while yet.

john and Greg both knew there was a very serious conversation to be had with mycroft, and measures to be put in place, but that could wait just an hour or two longer.   
  


For now, they just held their little boy and hoped to a god that neither of them believed in that he would be okay. 

—-


	17. no matter the cost.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> hello! Just so you guys know, this chapter is a very short one. I am so so sorry for not updating, I went back to school into year 11 last week and my good intentions for posting went completely down the drain. But I have 5 pre written chapters now, so regular updates start now!!! I promise. So I’ve decided to switch it up a bit, and this chapter is from Sherrinfords point of view. And I’m doing this because I wanted to show how it affects everyone, these kind of situations ripple to the people around us. 
> 
> I wanted to share that I relapsed last week. After 3 months, and this story is the only thing keeping me okay at the moment. If any of you are struggling, please please reach out to someone, anyone, me even. Childline UK is 08001111 for anyone that needs it. 
> 
> I was also thinking about making a Twitter for my little short stories and small additions to this story? Let me know what you all think of that, I would love to be able to interact with you all further.EDIT I MADE A TWITTER the acc is vaticancameos22 please go follow!! I’m also going to be starting another story on here too, at some point, once I’ve written up the first few chapters so stay on the look out for that!!! Anyways, enjoy this story!!
> 
> Love, myc xx

All Sherrinford could hear was sobbing. And he knew it was mycroft. And he knew why. He’d known why since 3 days ago when they got back from shopping with Mrs Hudson, and one of the bags slid up Myc’s arm and he dropped it like it was on fire, and ran up the stairs faster than Sherrinford had ever seen him run. But he couldn’t do anything, he was far too scared that if he did then Greg and John wouldn’t want them anymore.

Although, he had seen Greg’s scars. And Johns. But he had a weird feeling that it was best to not talk about johns, since they looked different to Greg’s, and if Sherrinford was as good at deduction as people said then John was invalided home from the army. But Greg’s scars provoked something inside of the young boy, a feeling of protection, a feeling that Greg had more of an idea of the Holmes boys lives than he liked to let on. The pin straight white lines that trailed his arms, and the flinches when someone did something unexpected, and the looks of understanding whenever one of the boys cried about what happened to them. In Sherrinford’s mind, all of those things were a type of scar. Just some of them not so visible.

He knew Mycroft had been acting odd, it wasn’t hard to miss, but he also knew that Greg and John had began to cotton on, so he didn’t feel the need to intervene just yet. It wouldn’t be efficient. But he also knew how secretive mycroft could be.

One time, back before Sherlock was born, Mycroft would write stories along his arms. With the only pens they could find in their house, or ones that extended family brought them for Christmas, he would create worlds in which he suffered no pain. And Sherrinford, who’s deduction skills had really started to blossom, didn’t catch on for 4 months. But mother and father did. And they soon told him to stop, but little mycroft carried on without getting an extra beating for a long time, he soon stopped it though, and Sherrinford had a horrible feeling that was when he discovered, well, the thing.

The thought of his little brother doing that to himself made him feel sick. Everything at the moment seemed far too much to comprehend, if he was honest. His panic attacks, medical complications and PTSD made his own life hard, but as the oldest sibling he had to take on Mycrofts PTSD, OCD and anxiety and self harm, and Sherlocks PTSD and Stockholm Syndrome, and selective mutism (although he was making significant progress with that).

Sherrinford just wanted to curl up in a ball and cry. Cry until none of it mattered anymore, cry until the pain of it all was nonexistent. But he couldn’t do that. He had to be strong for his siblings, be strong for Greg and John, be strong for Mrs Hudson. Because he knew if he didn’t, then it would be far easier to just take the easy way out. And for someone so young, thinking so often about the easy way out, even Sherrinford knew was bad. But he wouldn’t say anything, for the sake of the people he loved.

No matter the cost.

No matter the pain.

Even though deep down he knew it would make it worse.

He would not tell.

Then came the tears.


	18. more than they bargained for

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> hello my lovelies!!! I’m sorry it’s taken so long to update, this story is definitely more emotionally taxing to write than my new Harry Potter fic, (which you should definitely go check out ;) ) as it relates to my own life in a personal way!! And so it takes longer to update, but I hope you all understand that! Anyways, as of recent I’ve made myself an author Twitter!! It’s @vaticancameos22 , and you should definitely go and follow it for life and fic updates, and short stories and plot bunnies!! 
> 
> I think I’m actually doing okay. I’ve decided that I just don’t care about standards anymore? That’s my life update for this week lmao!! Not that anyone really cares. But I hope you enjoy this chapter, it’s a bit different, as it’s from our favourite morgue technician molly hoopers perspective!!! I’m going to be doing a few chapters like this, with a slight pause in the actual storyline, to demonstrate the ripple affect that things like this have, I hope you all don’t mind that? It could lose me some readers, but it’s how I feel awareness can be raised best!!
> 
> I hope you all are well:)  
> I hope you enjoy it!!! 
> 
> Love, myc xxx

**St Barts Hospital, Morgue**

Molly Hooper sat in her chair and sighed. She couldn’t focus on this stupid microscope, and nothing seemed to be going her way. Frustration, was the best way to describe it, but not with her work.

Her frustration was directed at herself. Because in her mind, John Watson and Gregory Lestrade were sat in their flat, or at work, and they were stressing over their three sons. Or almost sons. Anyways, that’s irrespective. She thought she should be doing more to help, although she wasn’t sure what.   
  


She knew it had hit Greg very hard. She was one of the few people who knew about his childhood and past habits, and seeing his boys, who he cares about so so much, had near enough broken the poor man. It had made his mind flare up with all of those old thoughts, but he couldn’t show them. She’d tried to talk to him, but all she had to show for that was a big dent in the wall of the morgue, where Greg had landed his fist in anger. If that wasn’t a clear enough sign that Greg had built up emotions, then Molly wouldn’t know what was.   
  


But it wasn’t Greg she was most worried about. It was John. John had picked up the pieces after Greg spiralled in their younger years, time and time again, and John was okay with that. Of course he was, but he himself was not okay. Molly had gone over to the flat one day, upon Johns request, and removed all of the alcohol from the flat. And that was how she knew. Because it was rare that John Watson ever acknowledged the fact that alcoholism runs in his family, or that his PTSD makes the urges worse. But this time he had no choice, or atleast that was what he told molly.

John was not a man to wear his heart on his sleeve, Molly knew that best, so when she got a phonecall in the middle of the day from a sobbing John Watson, that was when she finally realised the extent of what was going on in his head. They had 3 boys who had been through hell and back, and the two adults who loved them most seemed to be struggling just as much as them. And John had been hysterical, going on about ‘if we can’t even cope ourselves how can we help them to cope’ and stuff that Molly knew was just the nerves. 

Because Molly could see how much John and Greg loved the boys. She could see it when they looked at them, she could see it when they spoke about them. And they were great parents, they really were. How many people could handle ONE abused child, let alone three? They were the boys heroes, and all molly wanted to do was show Greg and John that it was okay to struggle with it, and most of all show them how much she was there for them.   
  


Suddenly, she was pulled out of her thoughts by one grey haired detective inspector stumbling through the doors of the morgue, covered in something.   
  


Something _red._

As he got closer, she realised that something was blood.

’Oh! Oh Greg what have you done?! Why haven’t you gone to John?’   
  
He shot her a look of confusion.

’John can’t know, not after everything that’s going on’ 

And that’s when it clicked in her head. What he had done. But Greg had been clean for years now? What? This made no sense, but no matter, she ran to get her med kid (the one not for dead people) and told Greg to take his bloodied shirt off.   
  
It took all of her self control not to gasp. Or to cry. Or to be sick. She’d seen this so many times but it never got easier. In fact it seemed to get worse every time it happened. Here was her best friend, in such a state of despair that he felt the need to do _that._ Oh, this was NOT good. She snapped out of it, and actually began to observe.

Down Greg’s toned, muscly stomach, was a row of about 30 fresh, bleeding cuts. All perfectly straight, all of the same length. They almost looked too uniform to be real, but Molly knew it was from years of practice on Greg’s part, and that thought made her heart hurt with an ache that she hadn’t felt in a long, long time.

Immediately slipping back into their old routine, the two people exchanged no words. They sat in silence as Molly sat and cleaned up the cuts, stitched and dressed the wounds where necessary, but luckily most of them were just surface wounds. Greg winced when she went over the deeper ones, but he’d been stitched up enough times by either Molly or John that he was somewhat used to it by now. 

When she was done with everything, he looked at her, smiled, and said ‘thanks. Just like old times eh?’

She couldn’t bring herself to smile. Although she was grateful for the lack of seriousness presented by the wounded man.   
  


‘yes, well, you know exactly what I’m going to say to you. You need to go home and talk to John, and you need to bring the boys over to mine for the evening. You clearly haven’t slept in days, and I’m sure John would appreciate it too. And before you protest, no he won’t be mad, and no he won’t leave you. Okay?’   
  


He nodded solemnly, but then cracked a smile and thanked her, but they skipped a hug seeing as Greg was hurt. As per their little routine, as soon as Greg had left the morgue with nothing to show but a bloody shirt, Molly picked up her phone and dialled Johns number.   
  
  


‘Hey John, I’ve just had Greg in my morgue. Before you ask, it’s not as bad as it could of been. I’ve stitched him up, but as per usual he thinks you’re going to be angry. Promise me you won’t be okay? Yes, yes I know it’s difficult, especially with everything that’s going on. But you need to stay calm okay? Yes, he’s just left. I told him to drop the kids at mine so you can have a night or two of peace okay? Of course I’ll let you know if anything happens. Stop thanking me you silly man! I love you all lots okay? I’ll see you soon. Bye.’

She put down the phone and silent tears ran down her cheeks. How ever were they going to get through this she didn’t know. But something in her told her that they would, no matter how hard it would be. She went back to her desk and sat at the microscope, immersing herself back into her work.

——  



	19. it's a surprise

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Heyyy, sorry I’ve been away for a bit. I’ve needed some emotional recovery time, lots has been going on. But I’m on a seaside holiday at the moment, and this chapter was written while sat by the sea. I’m sorry it’s relatively short, but I’ve written from my heart today and some fluff is very much necessary. Especially for our husbands!!! I’m not sure how well it flows but I’ll re touch it at some point xx
> 
> Anyways, I hope you all are well and you enjoy this chapter!!!
> 
> Lots of love, myc xx

  
John stood in the small kitchen of 221b, phone in a tightly gripped fist. He was extremely exhausted. And incredibly furious. And unimaginably upset. He was all of every negative emotion he could think of. But he knew it had been coming for weeks now, and he should have tackled it before it got this bad.

He had known him and Greg need some recuperation time but hadn’t quite realised the urgency of the situation. 

He felt like he was drowning.

Molly was an angel sent from heaven, sent to pull them from the water, in Johns's eyes at that moment. A few days is what they needed most. 

He’d pack the boys a few days of clothes, and leave them with molly for the weekend. Then he and Greg could talk things through and sleep. Lots of sleep. 

He and Greg loved the boys, they had made their lives so much brighter in the weeks they’d been a part of them. It was unconditional. But the trauma was so similar to what Greg had been through, that it was hard to keep everyone okay. But John felt terrible. He’d barely noticed what Greg was feeling.

He wasn’t angry with Greg. He’d kept John above the water and barely even showed his struggle. The only way John had known Greg wasn’t doing good was the dark purple circles under his normally bright eyes, which had dulled considerably, and the excessive hours at the yard. John felt very, very bad about not even noticing how much Greg was struggling. 

Struggling enough to go back to his old habits, and enough to go to Molly hooper instead of John. I mean that was a given, if it was minor, Greg would go to John. But anything worse, he’d take it to Molly.

John thought about Molly. He thought about what life would be like if he and Greg hadn’t had her by their side since getting together. She had seen them in every way imaginable, she’d seen the good, bad and the extremely ugly sides of both of them. John didn’t know how she put up with it, lord knows he barely could. But he did know that he loved her and that without her life would be a shambles. She’d said that the husbands could use a break, some time to themselves to heal. But 221b just didn’t seem the right place. 

Then it came to him. The seaside. The place where he and Greg had gone on their first holiday as boyfriends. His parents had left him a little caravan down in Devon, it was his and Greg’s favourite place, but they hadn’t been in a while, life just got too busy. 

It was a perfect idea. They’d leave the boys with Molly, and Mrs Hudson would of course insist upon helping, and go away for the weekend. Get away from the ever-mounting stress of London life. Heal. God knows they needed it. 

  
John set the plans in motion. 

——

  
Greg walked out of Scotland Yard, after throwing every swear word he could think of at Donovan and Anderson. He’d already thrown away 8 months clean that day, and the idiots had made his day infinitely worse. 

They were incompetent, all he wanted was to get home to his husband and kids and those two imbeciles were shagging in the break room! And to top it off, they’d lost an evidence bag in the process. Greg had walked out on them, saying he’d see them on Monday and they could sort the mess out themselves. 

He went to hail a cab but decided against it. He was far too angry, he couldn’t walk back into Baker Street like that, he needed to walk and blow off steam. He’d already messed up big time by having gone to Molly Hooper with his little.. issue, who as per their routine would have rung John as soon as he left the building, so John would be pissed with him and he couldn’t even talk about it because of the kids.

His heart swelled and tears formed in his eyes at the thought of his children. He loved them so very much, more than he could ever love himself, but he wasn’t sure if he could take care of them as they needed.

They’d been through a lot, but so had he. It was hard, and he needed a break. 

He and John needed a break. 

Before he knew it he was outside the door into 221b, and he fumbled around with his keys, purposely buying time. He wasn’t looking forward too seeing the disappointment on his husbands face. 

He took a deep breath and walked in. 

He tread slowly up the stairs, one by one, gathering his strength to combat the tears rising in his eyes. 

He walked through the door into the flat and was bombarded by three small children throwing themselves at him, with a lot of chatter from each. Greg sat on the sofa and pulled the kids into a big bear hug, and listened to what they had to say, while John stood, arms folded, and watched with a satisfied smile on his face. 

‘PAPAAAA GUESS WHAT’ came from little Mycroft.

‘WEVE PLANNED A SURPRISE FOR YOU’ came from Sherrinford.

“ ‘PRIZEEEE!” came from tiny Sherlock, who was sat on Greg’s knee clapping, trying to tell his papa what was going on with his held back vocabulary. 

Greg shot a puzzled look toward his husband, who gave him a knowing smile, and turned around and pulled out two suitcases. The smug smile got bigger on the blonde man's face.

‘I’m sure you’ll find out soon enough, but right now we need to take the kids round to Molly's place. Then after that, we are off.’

  
Greg was stupefied into an excited confusion. He kissed each one of his children, then stood up and threw himself into his husband's arms. He couldn’t hold back his tears any longer, but they were no longer angry tears, they were tears of unconditional love. 

——


	20. beach

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> hey guys!!! Sorry I’ve been away for a few weeks, things have been very rough, I narrowly escaped an attempt and some other shit that’s been going on so I apologise for my hiatus!!
> 
> This chapter is one I love so much, and I hope you all enjoy it too!!
> 
> I hope you all are well!!
> 
> Reminder that my ao3 twitter is @vaticancameos22
> 
> Lots and lots of love, myc xx

——

  
John had organised a car to drive them down to their little getaway caravan in Devon, and once all bags were packed in the car they set off. 

Approximately ten minutes of driving and Greg was fast asleep, head resting on Johns shoulder. John smiled contently.

Looking at the tired face of his fiancé, John reminisced on the first time he and Greg met, down at the small beachside resort upon the Jurassic coast.

——

  
_John stood at the bar with his sister, he’d just applied for the army and his parents had insisted they have one last holiday before he got in. It was about 4:30, but Harry had already got herself moderately tipsy._

_John sighed contently, staring into his pint of beer. He was finally doing something with his life, he was going to make a difference to other people. Something worthwhile. He could be-_

_Imposingly, the door to the old pub creaked open, ruining johns moment of reflection._

_But he couldn’t complain, because through the door walked the most gorgeous man that John had ever seen. His mind was clouded with a feeling he’d not felt before, all other thoughts becoming incoherent, and he was completely unable to drag his eyes away from the slender man with the long, black, pin-straight hair and the tight white shirt that defined the muscles underneath._

_All of a sudden their eyes locked and the entire world just stopped moving around them. John seemed to just melt into the other man's dark gaze, drawn in by the small smile that formed on soft-looking lips._

_‘Hey’ Came a smooth voice from a mouth which bore a genuine smile. ‘I’m Greg’_

_John nearly sunk through the floor. This man just said hi to him and he was just stood there smiling like an idiot._

_‘Um, hey. I’m John.’_

_John barely even found the words to form the response. But the other man didn’t mind, and it didn’t take long before the two men were talking freely, not a hint of awkwardness. Hours passed, and It all just seemed meant to be._

_Soon enough, they left the pub, both slightly tipsy, and John took Greg’s hand and led them both down towards the sand. They walked hand in hand the whole way, neither man finding the slightly romantic nature of the gesture unwelcome. It wasn’t until they were sat on the beach, under the setting sun, that they fully admired one another. The conversation continued, not once did silence descend on the two men._

_After a few minutes, their eyes locked once more, and both men fell completely silent. Blue eyes melting into brown, the sound of the waves crashing together in the background seemed to make something click in both men, and in a moment of boldness, Greg leant toward his new companion and pressed a soft kiss to his lips._

_John couldn’t believe what was going on. As the other man hesitantly pulled away, John set his hand on the other man's cheek and pulled him back in, for a deeper, more meaningful kiss._

_It was then that both men knew this was the start of something. Something new, something amazing._

——

  
It wasn’t long before they arrived at their little seaside caravan. John gently shook his partner awake, and they unpacked their bags and got inside. 

‘I was thinking about the first time we met’ 

Greg looked up at his fiancé with love in his eyes. 

‘July 30th. I’ll never forget it.’ 

John smiled, and pulled the man into a kiss, just as he had done on the beach all those years ago. 

After a very extravagant dinner of Mrs Hudson's turkey sandwiches (thank God for their beloved landlady and her fussing over them), they changed into appropriate clothing and took a stroll along the shoreline. 

Just as they did every time they came down to their little hideaway, they locked hands the whole way along the beach.

John's trainers ended up soaked, so they shedded their shoes and socks and just walked barefoot along the sand, both of their hair blowing wild in the salty breeze.

‘This isn't too cliché, is it?’ John asked. 

‘A romantic walk on the beach? We’ve done this a million times you absolute melt. Classics are classics for a reason.’ Greg replied with a laugh. A genuine one. 

Something John hadn’t heard for a while. 

They went swimming in the warm salty water, splashing and dunking each other playfully, acting like giant children, instead of men in their near fifties. Greg went along the beach looking for seashells, something he did every time they visited the beach, and John fell asleep on the sand. When he woke up, he was covered chest-to-toe in a heavy layer of the stuff, Greg lying next to him, marvelling at the fruit of his labours and grinning like the bastard he was.

‘Oh, I'll get you for that, Gregory Lestrade’ growled John laughingly, shifting his way out from under the sand, feeling a bit like the creature from the black lagoon. Greg laughed hiccupping and ran away, only for John to tackle him to the ground. Giggling like smitten schoolboys, they wrestled each other in a play fight that ended up with both men in fits of uncontrollable laugher in a heap on the sand. 

A few deep breaths later, and both men just lay on the sand. 

‘I can’t wait to bring the kids here love’ 

Greg looked at John and smiled. ‘Me neither darling’ 

John looked up and gasped, marvelling at the brilliant lavender and peach sunset that had begun to settle itself over the sea. 

‘God, look at that.’

John squeezed their hands together. ‘It's beautiful, love.’

Greg thought for a minute and knew he had to say something to his fiancé. 

‘John. We will get better. I will recover, you will recover, and so will the boys. I know you love them unconditionally, I do too, and we will get through this. For each other, and for them.’

With tears in his eyes, John nodded, understanding the sincerity of Greg’s words. 

‘I love you’

Greg smiled. ‘I love you too’.

They lay there in one another’s embrace, gazing in appreciation, till the firey red-orange globe sunk completely beneath the horizon, then still hand in hand, trudged back to the caravan under the orange glow of the street lights. 

——

**Author's Note:**

> what did you think?? hope you enjoyed this chapter, more will be up soon!!!!


End file.
